


sorry you, sorry me (sorry every in between)

by SilkyinaBottle



Category: Asagao Academy: Normal Boots Club
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Coming Out, Enemies to Friends, Jared Route, Just lots of Angst, Multi, POV Second Person, Retelling, Rivalry, Sexuality Crisis, Unrequited Crush, but not to lovers bc poor paul lmao, paul is oblivious, until he's not and then shit goes down
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-17
Updated: 2017-06-07
Packaged: 2018-07-25 17:21:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 11
Words: 25,113
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7541371
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SilkyinaBottle/pseuds/SilkyinaBottle
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Paul thinks he hates Jared, until he doesn't anymore.</p><p>Or, the one where Paul wins the election but loses to Hana.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. push it until my luck is over

**Author's Note:**

> to tony, because i specifically wrote this to watch mer suffer (and i hope it worked).
> 
> to the sin bin, for supporting me all the time and yelling whenever i post any excerpts in the group chat.
> 
> to cara and dani, because god damn this game has ruined my life in so many ways. i really wish i could let you know but we'd be here all day.
> 
> and to the jared route, because the single use of a paul blush sprite during jared's tournament scene CRUSHED me and inspired this chaos in the first place.
> 
> enjoy your pain, it's only just begun.
> 
> (also the title is from "celebrity status" by marianas trench. just in case you were wondering.)

It’s not fair, you think. It’s really not fair that someone can be so _unstoppably_ perfect, even when they’re yelling in your face. Jared’s brow is furrowed, his pretty face contorted into a look just short of _rage_ , but even then it’s a damn pretty face.

“I thought I told you to stop and take those posters down!” he spits, turning away from you briefly to bother Nick and Josh, who only pause for a second before returning to what they were doing. That is, hanging up your campaign posters over Jared’s fashion show flyers.

Josh makes that _face_ , the one you’re all too familiar with. The one that usually means, _‘Sit down and shut up because I’m not going to listen.’_ But Jared doesn’t speak Josh, so you know that won’t do either of them any good. “No. What is wrong with you?” is all he says, pasting a poster so it very deliberately covers up half of Jared’s face on one of the flyers.

Internally, you swell with an odd mixture of pride and relief, because Jared’s face _bothers_ you in a gut-twisting, heart-wrenching kind of way. You’re pretty sure it’s because you hate him, just a little bit, in a way that friends and fellow clubmates really shouldn’t.

“These walls are everybody’s space,” Nick adds, loud enough to carry across the hallway. “We don’t have to listen to you.” And maybe you’re putting up the posters on lockers, not walls, but that doesn’t matter at this point. You and Jared are already too far gone to care, and a tiny part of you is dying to get his attention back.

“And you should know that this campaign is way more important than your little fashion show,” Josh continues. True, yes, but Jared’s still—

“But mine were here first!” —completely focused on Nick and Josh, so you hardly even think before starting to yell again.

“Lay off them!” Something about Jared always does this to you: you snap a little too quick, you laugh a little too hard, you get upset too easily. Every little interaction with him puts you on edge and you feel like you have to tread carefully to avoid bursting with emotion. “This is between you and me, Jared,” you tell him, and you feel indescribably _glad_ when he meets your eyes. “Leave them out of it. You’ve been taking up all the wall space with your show. The student elections are much more important. It’s our _government_.”

Jared rolls his eyes, but it feels like a slap to the face. “The student government doesn’t even do anything!”

Oh, _now_ he’s got you worked up. “As _current president_ ,” you hiss, leaning in close enough to see the light reflecting off of his skin, “I can say with full knowledge and proper authority that the student government does a ton for this school.” Jared lets out a long, exasperated breath and you can feel it ghost across your cheeks. Your head spins. God, what a self-entitled _brat_. “You don’t even know, Jared. You don’t even know.”

Jared presses his lips into a thin line and then parts them, slowly—

And then there’s a heavy pressure on your stomach, forcing you away from Jared and back into the real world. Mai has pried herself in between the two of you away from each other with the strength of a fucking bodybuilder. Vaguely, you wonder if you should stop, if maybe you should take a step back and calm down before things go too far, but you’re currently locked in an intense staring contest with Jared and like _fuck_ are you letting him win. Nothing’s going to distract you from those piercing, glittering eyes, even bluer in real life than on those nauseatingly neon posters—

Nothing except Hana, who shows up in just the right place at just the right time. The two of you are on her in seconds, asking her which she prefers: the fashion show or the election. Hana’s reasonable, she’s a good student, you’re sure she’ll side with you…

But she doesn’t. She tells Jared she’s more interested in the fashion show, and you feel all the tension in your body release in one long, drawn-out sigh.

To your right, Jared is smiling brightly, a sparkling ball of happy nerves and relief. He turns to you and says, “I want you to win presidency again, Paul, I really do,” and after that it’s all sort of a blur. You’re pretty sure you tell him that his fashion show sucks, or something to that degree, before deciding to hang your posters up in the fourth year hallway.

If his stupid face has to torment you all the time, you might as well try and return the favor.


	2. pretty will swallow you forever

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i........ honestly thought it'd take longer than this, but here we are.
> 
> part of me wanted to go over some of the hana stuff this chapter, but the rest of the story's gonna have a lot of hana, so i thought i'd keep it on the backburner for now.
> 
> EDIT: this chapter is _supposed_ to be titled "pretty will swallow you forever" and if it's not it's bc ao3 keeps on changing it back to the title of the first chapter

The next morning you’re cradling three multi-colored GameSphere controllers in your arms (because apparently Nick and Josh can each carry only one controller at a time and decided to dump the other three on you), and you nearly drop one on your foot when you hear the word “husband” exit Jared’s mouth. It’s directed at Satch, you realize at you struggle to keep everything safe and sound in your arms, and you curse yourself for getting your hopes up.

Wait. Your hopes up?

“Jesus fuck,” Josh mutters under his breath, sighing at your stumbling attempt to keep all three controllers hugged tightly to your chest. “Don’t Paul it this early.” He’s looking at you with what might be disappointment, but you’re still looking at _Jared_ _,_ who’s looking at _Satch_ with wide, grateful eyes…

“Yeah, that’s not gonna bode well for the tournament,” Nick says just as Jared rests his head on Satch’s shoulder and whispers something in his ear. You can’t hear what it is over the clattering of controllers on the bedroom floor.

“Shit!” you start, and immediately go to your hands and knees gathering them from off of the ground. Nick is kind enough to take one for you and even out the load, but Josh is of very little help, rolling his eyes and making a comment about how you’ll lose right off the bat if you’re this uncoordinated. He does grab you a bagel, though, with you suppose is close enough to an apology. You take a tentative bite, hoping he didn’t spike it with something while you weren’t looking.

You’re so busy trying to analyze the taste of your food to make sure Josh didn’t mess with it that you fail to realize the character selection screen is up. The controller that was once five inches away from your lap disappears in a flash, and you’re ready to complain until you realize who took it.

Jared, who throws you a smug grin when you look in his direction.

Now you’re ready to _fight._

“I _brought_ that, Jared!” You make a grab for it, but Jared is swifter than expected, holding the controller just out of your reach. You lean over his lap, but he just twists and stretches his arm so you’re back to square one. “I should get the first round with it!”

“Too late.” Jared’s voice is slow and soft and comes out _way_ closer to your ear than expected, and you falter just long enough for Jared to duck out from underneath you and move to sit on the floor. “I grabbed it first, therefore mine.”

You pout and cross your arms, but make no move to go for the controller again, mostly because you don’t think you could handle having Jared’s mouth so close to your ear again. You already feel sick, a dull pang in the pit of your stomach making you sweat. Or maybe you’re just hungry.

You take another bite of your bagel. Cinnamon, but no raisins. Thank god for Satch.

The first round passes by quicker than expected (it surprises you every time how fast these matches can go), and you cheer for Jirard the whole time, taking great pleasure in how worked up Josh gets over it. But in the end Jared comes out victorious with graceful swipes of the joystick and a few meticulously timed Stomp attacks. Between yelling at Jirard and laughing whenever Josh’s character fell off the stage, you watched Jared’s thin fingers nimbly switch between buttons, each carefully crafted press helping him take down his opponents with ease.

Someone has to stop him.

“Josh, give me your controller,” you say as soon as the game is over, because there’s only two people in this world Josh will trust with his prized Princess Pear Gamesphere controller: you and Nick. Josh must see the fire in your eyes (you can _feel_ it coursing through your veins), because he hands the controller over without a single word of protest.

As you take it from him, you look across the room to see if Jared’s still playing and, of course, he is. That smug asshole just doesn’t know when to stop. Of course, with only eleven people present, there’s more than enough room for some people to play in multiple rounds, but he could at least try and _offer_ the controller to someone _else_. God knows Mai would probably shed real tears if he so much as looked in her direction, he could at least give her—

(he could at least give you)

—the time of day for once!

You stop for just a second; to linger on that thought, to reconsider something, when you’re brought out of your thoughts by the familiar character select screen music. You select Meadow Night without a second thought; he’s always been your best character, even when they nerfed him after Scuffle, so he’s your go-to choice whenever you really wanna kick some ass. You send Jared another hard glare from across the room. _Get ready to go down, Knabenbauer._

He doesn’t look back. You can feel your stomach turn.

Much to your shock and appall, you lose. Jared loses too, but he still did better than you, which you’re sure must feel like a victory to him. Instead Shane came out on top, laying low for the first half of the match before snatching a Stomp Ball and raining hell down onto the stage.

So maybe it was a draw, but it sure didn’t feel like one. You could hear him laughing at you now, telling you that you’d have to try harder if you ever wanted to even _think_ about beating—

You turn your gaze back to him. He still isn’t looking.

You hand the controller back to Josh, deciding there’s no point in practice rounds anyways. You’re good enough as is.

You’re proven wrong when you lose in the very first round, launched off the stage with Bess’s baseball bat. Shane gives you a small smile and tells you it was a good game, and you would be convinced he was lying if he weren’t always so direct. Privately, you blame Jared, who gave you a pat on your shoulder and told you to “kick his ass, for both of us” before the match began. He threw you off your game.


	3. i'd never guess how we ever could have got here

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> & now....... it's time for the REAL angst to begin
> 
> (also it was fun to finally write some continue? dynamics!! nick & josh are gonna have a bigger part in this story than was first anticipated so i hope you're excited for that)

The next few days roll by so fast they become a blur. You spend most of Monday fiddling around with a button maker and explaining to Nick and Josh that no, “Vote for Paul” pins will  _ not _ be a dress code violation. Calling Tuesday’s club meeting a disaster would be an understatement, but you at least feel marginally better after spending the rest of your afternoon in the library with PBG and Satch. Wednesday is the fateful day of the screaming match in Bluebell and after that things get sorted out pretty cleanly. You all decide to present your compromise to Hana on Thursday, and all in all it goes well. At least, as well as it could have.

(You still don’t understand  _ why  _ Shane is so adamant on holding a grudge against Hana just because of the way she looks, but you decide that’s an issue for another day. You’re at least confident that you would never do anything like that.)

So all the arguments have been resolved, Shane has quieted down, and everything’s just about gone back to the way it used to be. Except Hana might join the club now. You don’t mind the idea. Hana is nice. She seems like an rational, responsible girl, even if she does prefer fashion shows over student council elections. You think you’re willing to let that one slide.

That leaves you where you are now: sitting cross-legged in the middle of the single bed in your dorm, the book Satch recommended to you sitting open in your lap. You glance up and fix your gaze at Nick and Josh, who are both splayed out on the bottom bunk. Josh has busied himself playing a Turbie game on his 4DS while Nick watches over his shoulder and argues with him over his technique. “You can’t just fly over all the enemies! At least engage  _ some  _ of them.”

Josh hardly acknowledges his critique, his eyes firmly locked onto the screen. “I don’t want to lose my copy ability. You know mirror is my favorite.”

“Josh, you’re the only one who likes mirror,” you contribute, closing the book and setting it to the side. You’ll get back to it later; for now something else is on your mind. “You guys aren’t taking anyone to the festival, right?” It’s a near pointless question; the three of you go to the festival together every year. But they both know you well enough to know that’s not what you’re  _ really  _ asking.

“Nah,” Nick says, shrugging slightly. “I was just planning on going with you two again this year.” He throws Josh the fondest little smile you’ve seen in a long time and you’ve never been more grateful to have such amazing friends.

Josh snaps his 4DS shut and sits upright, looking towards you with a familiar gleam in his eyes. “Yeah, same here. But you know who  _ did  _ ask someone out to the Flower Festival?” This is what you were waiting for. Josh always seems to know what’s going on with everyone, inside their friend group and out. You’ve always speculated it’s because he’s so quiet, which makes it easier for him to overhear things (even if Nick always argues that couldn’t possibly be the case, since their Normal Boots jackets make them stand out too much).

“Jared?” Nick guesses, since it’s the obvious answer.

Josh, predictably, shakes his head. Of course. If the answer were that obvious he wouldn’t have added in any sort of unnecessary build-up. What he says next is more surprising. “Almost. Hana asked  _ him _ . They’re going together tonight.”

You feel the blood drain from your face all at once. Your head feels like it’s been attached to the top of a merry-go-round, and it’s spinning, spinning, spinning… “What,” you say, more of a gasp than an actual question. Your hands are clammy where they’re gripping at the bedsheets.

Nick sits up too now, staring at Josh with wide, interested eyes. He looks surprised, but not upset, and distantly you wonder if something’s wrong with you. Maybe you’re sick. That sounds plausible enough. “Seriously?” Nick starts, leaning closer in attention. “But I thought Mai—”

“Liked him?” Josh finishes, not making any noticeable effort to move further away from Nick. “Oh yeah, totally. I guess Mai decided to let Hana have him. Pretty cool of her. I don’t know if I would have been able to do the same thing in her shoes.”

Nick’s mouth is moving; he’s saying something, looking at Josh with the smile on his face from earlier, but you can’t hear him over the torrent of thoughts crashing against every side of your skull. Since when does Hana like Jared? Why would she wait until the day before the festival to ask him? Did she even ask him today? And furthermore, didn’t Jared say he’d already picked out a date? Whatever happened to that? Since when is Hana so special? Sure, she’s nice and pretty and probably a really sweet girl once you get to know her, but you—

“Paul! You okay?” Nick’s voice pulls you back into reality, and you meet his worried gaze with glazed over eyes.

“Yeah,” you choke out, but it doesn’t sound at all convincing. It doesn’t  _ feel _ convincing either; instead it feels like there are tiny, invisible strings attached to your chest, pulling at all the wrong places.

Josh scowls, his eyes narrowing just a fraction to make it clear he doesn’t buy into your bullshit. “Okay, and now the truth.”

You open your mouth to speak, but the words never come. You find yourself fishing for an answer, running your hands through water only for them to come up cold and empty every time. What  _ is  _ the truth? For the first time, you stop consider it.

For some reason, something about Jared and Hana being  _ together  _ feels wrong to you. Your gut reaction is to blame it on Jared, to say you’re worried he’ll just string Hana along like he does every other girl, but you know that’s not quite right. Jared may jump between girls like a frog hopping between lilypads to stay afloat, but he’s a gentleman first and foremost. He would never hurt Hana; you know that, no matter how hard you may insist otherwise (to yourself and no one else).

Your next guess is that you like Hana, but that can’t be it either. You’ve known her for less than two weeks; there’s no way you could have become that attached to her so quickly. And even then, even if you did, you’re sure you’d be feeling much more angry and much less… nauseous.

You’ve never passed up on an opportunity to jump on Jared. So what gives?

You can think of one more predictable answer, but that can’t be it. You… you’re not  _ gay _ . You know that, everyone knows that; it’s a well-established fact. So that leaves you with very little to work with.

So at Josh’s prying gaze, you simply shrug before laying down on your side and pulling the comforter up over your head. “I’m just feeling sick,” you mumble, and it’s not technically a lie. Every nerve in your body feels like it’s on high alert; you’re hyper-sensitive to all of your surroundings while simultaneously feeling like you’re watching the world through a curtain of lace. Everything feels hazy, like this is some kind of hauntingly lifelike dream you’re stuck in. You just wish you could explain to them—explain to  _ yourself _ —why you’re feeling this way. “You guys should just go to the festival without me,” you tell them, your voice sounding awfully far away.

There’s a few silent, restless beats (you imagine Nick and Josh looking at each other with a shared sense of confusion and concern, before looking back to you), before either of them speak. “Okay,” Nick says, but he sounds apprehensive at best. “Feel better soon.” You know he doesn’t believe you. If Nick believed you were sick he’d be on you in seconds, checking your temperature and insisting he stay here with you just in case you get any worse. He clearly realizes something else is going on, but he doesn’t pry, which is really all you care about.

If Josh says anything, you don’t hear it. You hear the creaking of the bottom bunk, followed by footsteps across the room and the opening of drawers. You take that to mean they’ve started getting ready without you. You wrap the covers a little tighter around yourself and shut your eyes so hard you see sparkles.


	4. i can't depend in the end

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i apologize if you got emails saying this fic updated like three times; i accidentally deleted a chapter and had to go back and fix things!!

The festival comes and goes, and on Saturday Normal Boots gathers for a very important club meeting. Well, not all of you meet. Satch is scheduled to work at the library that day and PBG skips for reasons unknown (Jon gets a text from him five minutes after the meeting begins, and he only says that PBG is “working on becoming less of a baby,” which could mean anything). So it ends up being just the seven of you, talking and joking around like you usually do.

Jared’s nearly bent over in laughter, and you can’t help but stare at him from across the room. It’s rare that Jared lets out a laugh much louder than a low chuckle. When he does it’s almost always in the safety of the clubroom or someone’s dorm; never in public. Jared’s laughter is elusive enough that you feel you should take a moment to appreciate it: the way the corners of his eyes crinkle up as he grins, the way he clutches his stomach with one arm and grips the edge of a nearby desk with another to stay upright, the way he takes in big gulps of air only to get caught in another giggle fit…

You’re not sure when you went from hating Jared to silently appreciating him, but you don’t mind it so much. Seeing him so happy is bringing a smile to your face, too.

It takes about two minutes after that for someone to notice how out of it Jon seems, and another five for Shane to suggest they try some improv to ease his nerves about the play. Twenty more minutes later, you’re sitting cross-legged on Nick and Josh’s backs, pretty comfortable despite how obviously they’re struggling to hold your weight. You’re a little too focused on Jared, who’s launched into a speech on the poor economy of the kingdom your character inhabit, to care. Jared always tends to get a little too involved in these things, and you have to hold back a snicker as he gestures wildly around himself, coming inches away from backhanding Shane in the face.

His motions still as a knock sounds at the door, followed shortly by, “Excuse me? Is Jared in there?” You recognize the voice as Hana’s and feel the energy drain from your body as Jared leaps off of the desks with a wide grin spread across his face. He bounds across the room in long, bouncy strides until he reaches the door. He throws it open and takes only a second to thank Hana for her presence before dragging her inside.

“Alas!” he cries with just as much enthusiasm as before. Hana’s head snaps to the side to look at Jared with wide, bewildered eyes. “The mayor has finally arrived! Please, tell us how you will save us from the scourge that has risen in the above-water city of Atlantis!”

Normally, you would be upset that Jared brought in his  _ girlfriend  _ to contribute to your private improv session. Normally, you would be angry that he thought he could let a non-club member, even someone as sweet and unassuming as Hana, interrupt such an important moment. Normally, you wouldn’t hesitate to tell him this, shouting until your face started to flush. Normally, he’d yell right back and you’d launch ourselves into one of your silly little arguments that never really went anywhere.

(That’s not true. Normally you wouldn’t mind. Normally you’d welcome in Hana with open arms. Normally this wouldn’t slip you up in the least bit. But you’re so focused on the fact that Jared took Hana out on one, singular date that it’s starting to affect the way you treat the poor girl. They’re not even actually a  _ couple _ ; what the hell is your problem?)

But instead your gaze lands on the bundle of brightly colored flowers Hana’s clutching in her arms, and your skin goes cold. Did those… come from—

You rest your hand where nothing is and have to grasp at the neck of Nick’s jacket to keep yourself from falling backwards off of the desk. Nick makes a choked sound of protest and almost gives out underneath you, causing yet another quake in your three-person pyramid. You feel one of Josh’s shoulders shift so he can place his hand firmly on top of Nick’s, strengthening your foundation just enough to keep you all afloat. You breathe a sigh of relief just in time to hear the tail end of something Shane is saying. “—for right now. She’s not a member.” This again?

Jared crosses his arms in front of his chest, his eyes narrowing to fix Shane with a glimmering glare. “Everyone, take five,” he says, his voice clipped as he turns to lead Hana back towards the door.

You carefully climb off of Nick and Josh, making sure you don’t kick either of them in the face in the process (it’s happened before). A million questions ring loud in the back of your mind, ever nagging.  _ Were those flowers from Jared? Are they actually dating now? Why do I even care?  _ You try to silence them as your feet hit the hardwood floor and Nick and Josh slowly break apart from each other.

Shane sits down on top of the desk he’d been standing on and grips the edge of it until his knuckles turn bone white. No one says a word until Jirard makes his way across the room, mumbling something about checking on Jared.

The meeting doesn’t last much longer after that. No one can focus with Shane’s behavior making the entire room ten degrees colder.

(And even without that, you don’t think you would have been able to focus with your mind running wild for reasons still unknown.)

 

The weekend passes by faster than you would have preferred, and on Monday Nick walks into the dorm room carrying an off-white envelope in his hands. At your and Josh’s prying gazes, he sighs and tosses it in your direction. When it lands on the edge of the bed, you see that the top has already been torn open. You set your homework aside and sit upright so you can reach it. Picking it up, you find that the paper is thin and surprisingly soft. Overall, it’s not too different from any regular old envelope, but the familiar loopy cursive on the front tells you that this isn’t some throwaway note.

You wrestle the paper out of the envelope so fast you almost tear the entire thing in half. “Calm down,” you hear Josh say, his voice quiet underneath the noise of rustling paper. “It can’t be  _ that _ important.”

“It’s just an invitation for some tea ceremony thing Jared’s doing tomorrow,” Nick explains as he takes a seat down in front of your shared work desk, flicking the desk light on as he does. 

As you unfold the paper, you see that he’s right; the note is neatly handwritten, requesting your presence at a public tea ceremony tomorrow night… You can feel your cheeks heat up as your eyes scan over the words gently inscribed onto the page. You guys are friends, there’s no reason for him to use such formal language...

“I think he sent one of these to all of our dorms; maybe Hidden Block, too,” Nick says as he turns on the computer monitor. “My guess is that everyone in school will know by tomorrow morning.”

Josh sinks in his seat slightly, his eyes trained on the pause menu for Dippy Kang Karting. “I bet he’d like that.”

You set the note to your side, face-up in case Josh might want to read it later (unlikely, but it couldn’t hurt). “So, are we going?” you ask, since the question’s just going to hang there otherwise.

“You tell us,” Josh starts, tucking his legs in front of his chest and staring at you over the top of his kneecaps. “You’re the one who’s still mad at Jared for the whole poster thing.”

This throws you off for a second. You thought you’d been getting along a little better with Jared recently. Sure, the whole Hana thing kind of bothers you, but that doesn’t really have to do with  _ Jared _ necessarily, it’s more of… Well, you’re not entirely sure  _ what  _ it is, but you haven’t been letting it affect your relationship with Jared.

You look to Nick for some backup, but he just gives you a tired expression and a resigned shrug. “He’s kind of right, you know. It’s like just bringing him up puts you in a bad mood.”

“That’s—you know that’s not true!” you protest, but even as you say it you’re mulling over their words in your head. Has Jared been putting you in a bad mood lately? You think on it: the posters, the practice tournament, the flower festival, even the club meeting the other day. As you go through each event, it’s easy to find the correlation: each event involved Jared to some degree, even when he wasn’t a direct catalyst for your change in mood. Your expression softens, and you turn to stare at the paper lying inches away from your fingertips.

Maybe they have a point.

“You’re going to have to let it go at some point,” says Nick, and you’re caught off guard at how someone who’s known you for so long can just  _ not  _ understand. So maybe this is about Jared, but this isn’t about the posters. Not anymore.

“I thought I had,” you say, lifting up your hand to pick the paper back up, but…

You stop, your hand dangling helplessly over Jared’s pristine handwriting.

Then, in one swift motion, you crush the paper in your hands, crumple it up into a tight ball, and launch it across the room. “Fine, then. We don’t have to go.”

Unlike last time, you actually  _ see  _ Nick and Josh share a look, but they look more tired than concerned, like this was the expected outcome. But they don’t complain, so you guess they didn’t care much about going anyways.

You pick your homework back up, but you can’t stop thinking about why  _ you  _ cared so much about going in the first place. Every time you think about Jared onstage, handling himself with utmost grace and precision, your stomach ties itself in knots.

You think you’re starting to hate him again.


	5. just stop, i think i got it

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> god, it's been almost a month since i last updated this!! i'm terribly sorry for the wait, but i think this chapter will more than make up for it.
> 
> if last chapter was the calm, this one's the storm.
> 
> (fun fact: like the title of the fic, every chapter title is a lyric from marianas trench's "celebrity status". the title of this chapter is the lyric that comes right before the line, "sorry you, sorry me, sorry every in between," which i think is rather fitting considering the events of this chapter.)

You still can’t believe you had to hear about it from _Satch_.

Not that you have a problem with Satch; he brings food to club meetings and recommends you books and has dragged you out of trouble more times than you can possibly count, but you would have much rather heard the news from Jared himself rather than getting it secondhand from his roommate. Not that it would have made any sort of difference. What you feared has now become reality: Jared and Hana are officially dating.

You’re still not sure _why_ you feared the idea of them dating so greatly, but it sits now like a heavy rock in the bottom of your stomach, and you’re hyper-aware of the feeling at all points during the day. When you wake up the next morning and Nick offhandedly mentions Jared while you’re getting ready; when Jared sits in front of you in class, leaving you to stare helplessly at the back of his head; and especially at lunch, when Hana sits down and Jirard smiles widely as he fills her in on the conversation they were having just before she arrived.

“I was saying, we’re all going to have to look out for you now.” His eyes slide across the table to glance at Jared and his smile shifts into more of a smirk. “This guy’s a dog, isn’t he? I still can’t believe you picked him, of all people!” He laughs, and then so does everyone else. You let out a feeble little chuckle, but you can’t force out a very convincing laugh at the tight-lipped, almost _hurt_ look on Jared’s face.

“Actually, I wanted to talk about that,” Jared says, setting his fork gently beside his tray on the table. Then he smiles, as pristine as ever, but something about it feels strained. You wonder if you’re the only one who notices. “It’s not a big deal that we’re dating now. You shouldn’t treat me any different, and you especially shouldn’t treat Hana any different.”

“We know that!” Jirard insists, but Jared doesn’t budge.

“No, I’m serious. Hana is Hana. If I see any of you treating her like ‘Jared’s girlfriend,’ I will attack you with a megaton hammer.” You can’t help but feel like that comment is directed towards you somehow, as if Jared has access to your innermost thoughts and knew that every time you looked at her all you could think about was that she went to the Flower Festival with him. But, okay. That’s fine; he’s right, that was probably kind of shitty of you. Hana is Hana; you’ll keep “Jared’s girlfriend” as a sidenote.

Next to you, Josh smiles. He doesn’t grin or smirk, he honestly and truly _smiles_ , as if the idea excites him. “Is that a challenge?”

Jared, however, _does_ smirk, standing up and leaning over the table to look Josh directly in the eyes. You swallow. “It might be.” They hold the staredown for all of three seconds before bursting into a fit of giggles. Jared sits back down and turns to say something you can’t quite overhear to Satch, but you can’t pry your eyes off of him for a single second.

Maybe that’s just it, you think. Maybe you were worried about how this would affect the group dynamics. Because, sure, Jared’s dated plenty of people before, whether it was a one-off date or something a little more lasting, but never a _friend_. Never someone that everyone was on good, familiar terms with; never someone who sat at your lunch table.

(For a second, that gets your mind working: what if two club members started dating? How would that affect things? But you quickly shrug the idea off. All of you are straight, so there’s no way that could ever happen. No need to even consider it.)

But now that they’ve talked it out, everything should be fine, right? There’s no need for you to worry anymore, is there?

You catch a glimpse of Jared smiling at Hana across the table, and you know in an instant just how wrong you are.

From there you launch yourself into steady banter with Nick and Josh, hoping the two of them can distract you from whatever it is you’re feeling, but—

“We were passing out cupcakes with Paul’s face on them for hours,” Nick complains, and you toss a glare in his direction. “You’d think cupcakes would be something people wanted! It’s free sugar!” It’s true: you thought it was a good idea, otherwise you never would have suggested it. But you don’t take Nick’s moaning lightly. He’s only mad because he’s the one who had to bake them all. You turn to Josh indignantly, sure that he’ll agree with you; after all, he _never_ sides with Nick.

But, to your astonishment, Josh’s quickfire insults are instead aimed directly at you. “Would you eat something with this guy’s mug on it?”

“I’m insulted,” you mutter, trying hard to ignore the way Nick has to muffle a laugh behind the palm of his hand. This is… different.

“Good,” Josh says, but he’s not looking at you. He’s looking at Nick. “It was supposed to be an insult.” Nick doesn’t laugh this time, but he does duck his head down, his smile nearly splitting his face in two.

You get the feeling you’re missing something very, very important here.

But before you can question it any further, you catch Jared standing to leave out of the corner of your eye and you turn your head just in time to see Hana following after him. You can hear PBG laugh and call them lovebirds just as you feel the rock sink down in your stomach once more.

 

There’s a lot of places you would have expected to run into Mai. Not that you normally go about your day listing places you might run into Mai in your head. Sure, she’s pretty and all, but a little too bouncing-off-the-walls-and-destroying-everything-in-her-path for your taste. Oh god, is that hypocritical? It probably is. You’re going to have to come up with a better reason why you wouldn’t want to date her.

...Not that you’ll have to worry about it, because you catch her slipping out of Jon and PBG’s room with the most giddy, satisfied look you’ve seen on anyone ever. “Uh, you doing alright there?” you start, and she jumps at least a full foot in the air.

“Oh, uh,” she starts, and she spends a few more seconds sputtering uselessly before she gets any real words out, “hey, Paul. What are _you_ doing here?” Her delivery is wooden at best, and although she leans against the door in an attempt to seem casual, the blush steadily spreading across her cheeks reveals much more than she’d probably like.

“Well, I live here,” you remind her, pointing your thumb down the hallway, in the general direction of your dorm room door. “Right over there, actually. So I think it makes plenty of sense that I’m over here. What I’m more interested in,” you lean down to bring your faces a little closer, and you take great pride in the way her eyes widen to comical sizes, “is why you’re here.”

Mai looks desperately between your face and the door, red hair whipping against her shoulders as her head twists back and forth. “I m-mean, I was just… you know!” You don’t know, and you make that clear by raising an eyebrow skeptically. Mai stumbles fruitlessly trying to clarify. When the words finally do come out, they’re hardly convincing. “Like, l-like hanging out and stuff! With PBG…,” her eyes, which were darting around sporadically before, fix on a spot on the wall near your head, like she wants it to look like she’s staring at you when she can’t bring herself to, “...a-and Jon…”

Bullshit. “If I’m correct, drama club meets from 3:30 to 5:00 on Mondays, Wednesdays, and Fridays.” You should know; you’re the one who had to look over the club submission forms. “And today is a Friday,” you dig your phone out of your pocket and turn the screen on just long enough to flash the time, “at exactly 4:49, which would mean—”

“Please don’t tell anyone!” she cries, actually managing to take you by surprise by sheer volume and energy. God, forget about _you_ telling anyone; all of Bluebell will know if she keeps screaming. “W-we weren’t actually doing anything, I promise!” Her voice quiets down now, as if she’s suddenly aware that PBG is on the other side of that door and could hear anything she says to you right now. “I mean, n-not that I wouldn’t _want_ to, but…!”

“Mai, seriously, calm down!” You can’t help but chuckle at the enthusiasm in which she denies your unspoken accusation. She’s acting like you might just burn her at the stake for some harmless romance. “Asagao may be strict when it comes to dating, but I’m not.” You reach out and give her a light pat on the shoulder, still grinning all the while. “You’re in the clear, kid.”

Mai’s cherry red flush does not fade. If anything, it grows, and she has to duck her head down in order to hide it. “W-we’re not _dating_ …”

You tilt your head, your tone lightly teasing. “Yet?”

At this she looks up, glaring hard and shoving you in what you’re sure is a playful gesture (it definitely isn’t gentle, though). “You mind your own business!” she cries, but you can see the smile tugging at the corners of her lips.

“Okay, _okay_ ,” you surrender, holding your hands up in front of you to protect yourself from any further roughhousing. “I can see when I’m not wanted. I just thought, you know,” you pause, before realizing that you’re doing exactly what she did just a moment before, “thought you were into Jared.”

Alright, you didn’t just _think_ she was into Jared. You, like everyone else, noticed the way her eyes drifted towards him at lunch, as if he were the most interesting thing in the known universe. Hell, you’d be surprised if Jared himself hadn’t noticed. Then again, most girls seem to be into Jared, so maybe he’s just used to it. A lot of guys too, now that you think about it. Hell, it seems like everyone wants a piece of Jared, now that you think about it.

Not including you, of course. Friends seem to be immune to his boundless amount of charm, his effervescent sparkle, his perfectly groomed coiffure, that look he gets in his eyes when he smiles, that little sliver of his chest that he shows off by leaving just the first few buttons on his uniform shirt undone…

What were you thinking about, again?

Oh, right. Mai and Jared.

“I mean, _yeah_ ,” Mai says with a shrug, clearly acknowledging just how predictable her answer is, “but isn’t everybody?”

Okay, maybe you didn’t predict that part. The words, “I’m not,” are out of your mouth too quick for you to stop and consider them, but you immediately want to grab them and shove them back in your mouth where they belong. You don’t think you’ve ever said anything more needlessly defensive in your life. Of course you don’t like Jared; you’re straight, so that should come automatically, right?

But Mai’s smiling, and it’s definitely not the type smile you feel safe around. You take a careful step back, only for the grinning redhead to lean forward in response. “Really now? You think you’re strong enough to block out his indestructible rays of beauty?”

“Yes,” you reply, but your voice sounds oddly hoarse. You know she’s just trying to get a rise out of you, but damn if it isn’t working. It doesn’t help that you _know_ what she’s talking about and you don’t even need to try to conjure up an image in your head. No, the image comes completely unwarranted. You have to resist the urge to shake your head to rid yourself of any and all Jared-related thoughts, knowing it will hurt your case more than help it.

You try to ignore the part of yourself that’s aching to ask her what it felt like to be so enamored with Jared, because that’s really not something you need to know.

Mai rocks back on her heels and you release a breath you hadn’t realized you were holding. “Well, then I guess you’re a whole lot stronger than I am.” Something flickers in her eyes; something that makes her look almost… sad? “But he has Hana now, so…,” she throws her hands up, letting them fall back to her sides just as quick, “oh well, right?”

“Just like that?” you say, much quieter than you had anticipated. “You liked him for so long, and then just…,” you make a little _poof_ motion with your hands, “that’s it?”

She smiles easily, but there’s a hint of solemness to it. “Well, I guess it can never be that easy. I think I’ll always admire him just a little bit, but that’s just it, isn’t it?” She looks you in the eyes now, her gaze unwavering. “Jared was just a fantasy. I needed someone real. And it hurt, but it was like ripping a band-aid off, you know? I thought the pain would be so much worse than it actually was, but it’s not like I knew him that well anyways. For someone else,” she pauses, and it feels very intentional, “it would be much harder.”

“Why are you telling me this?” you ask, suddenly aware of your pulse drumming against your skull.

You know why she’s telling you this and you really wish she wasn’t. Now that she’s brought it up it’s all coming together, like a thousand shimmering puzzle pieces, creating the whole picture before you can cover your eyes and turn away.

Mai shrugs. “You were listening. But hey, I should get back to my dorm.” She turns on her heel and starts making her way down the hallway, waving at you as she goes. “It was nice talking to you!” She’s turning the corner and is out of sight in an instant. You can’t help but feel like it’s some kind of escape.

You turn around and start walking towards your room with shaky, weighted steps.

There’s no way this can actually be happening to you. Except it _is_ happening, and something tells you that part of you _expected_ it this whole time.

Your steps grow quicker as your thoughts run wild.

You know now. You understand why you didn’t need to ask Mai what it was like to be attracted to Jared: you already know. Oh god, you _know_.

When you finally reach the door, you pull on the doorknob, only to find it locked.

You’re not straight. You kept saying—you really thought, but you didn’t realize… You didn’t know it was supposed to feel like this.

Your keys bounce against each other as you pull them out of your pocket, making loud, obnoxious sounds from the unstoppable shaking of your hands.

And with _Jared_ , too. Someone you thought you hated. But you were wrong. You were so _wrong_.

You jam the key into the doorknob, twist it, and then yank the door open as quickly as you can manage in your panicked state.

It doesn’t take long for you to realize what a mistake you’ve just made. You’re just thankful the door opened relatively soundlessly, because you really didn’t think you’d be walking in on your two best friends making out on the single bed.

But, well. That’s a thing that’s happening.

Josh is straddling Nick’s hips, grabbing fistfuls of his uniform shirt with one hand as he pins one of Nick’s wrists to the bed with the other. Nick has his free hand tangled in Josh’s hair and he lets out a weak moan as Josh tilts his head and deepens the kiss, and oh god you think you see some tongue and if there was any doubt left that you weren’t straight it is fucking _gone_.

The knots in your stomach are quickly replaced with a crushing weight as you remember the looks they shared at lunch today. This has been going on for a while, hasn’t it? They’ve been doing this _behind your back_ because they couldn’t _trust_ you with it.

Your hand blindly grips for the doorknob, and when you find it you close the door as slowly and quietly as possible, staring at the two of them until the door shuts and they’re out of sight. Then you turn and run, pent-up adrenaline carrying you through the hallway and down the stairs at the end.

You have no idea where you’re going. Anywhere’s fine, as long as it’s not here.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> okay, i promise i'll add nick/josh to the tags........ when the next chapter comes out. shhh, i didn't wanna spoil the surprise!!


	6. sorry everybody here will never be somebody clean

It’s been eight days since you realized you like Jared—or, as you’ve been calling it (always in your head, never out loud), The Point of No Denial. You didn’t _mean_ to count the days. Your mind just ran on autopilot, as it often does in times of great stress, and before you knew it a week had passed and you still couldn’t stop thinking about the fact that you _like_ Jared, and you’re both boys, which means you’re not straight, and he’s dating Hana, which means he’s in a relationship, and Hana seems so happy nowadays, which means things are going well and… Oh god, oh god.

Oh, _god_.

If Nick and Josh notice you’ve been acting strangely, they don’t say anything. Maybe they’re too caught up in each other to notice. Maybe they just figure you’re still mad at Jared. Maybe they’re just not sure how to broach the subject. Either way, you’re grateful. You don’t even know how you’d _begin_ to explain your problem.

Actually, _problems_ , plural. As much as you’d like to tell yourself it isn’t, Nick and Josh’s relationship (if that’s what it even is) is a problem. It isn’t that you don’t accept them. You’d walk to the ends of the earth for either of them without hesitation; this is nothing. The problem is that they don’t seem to _know_ that.

Or maybe it’s not even that. You can’t blame them for not telling you. No matter how fervently you insist that the three of you are close enough to make it a non-issue… Well, it’s not like you’ve made a single attempt to tell either of them about The Point of No Denial. So how can you act like they should tell you about what’s going on in their lives when you can’t even bring yourself to do the same?

Maybe the three of you were never as close as you’d estimated. No, maybe you were never as close to the two of _them_ as you’d estimated.

You consider calling Don, very briefly, but you rule it out. Sure, Shiragiku may seem far away now, but you’ll always have to go back for break. You tell yourself it’s fine; the two of you have been friends for years, so there’s no way he wouldn’t accept you… But you can’t even bring yourself to chance it. Instead, you text him to let him know how things are going, like you normally would, leaving Nick, Josh and Jared out entirely. Just like Nick and Josh, if he notices you’re acting strangely, he doesn’t say anything.

And yet, despite your myriad of problems involving your best friends and your unexpected crush, here you are: seated between Nick and Josh in the auditorium, attending Jared’s stupid fashion show. Except you never really thought it was _that_ stupid, even if you only agreed to come to support Hana and make up for not attending the tea ceremony. And because you wanted to make sure Jared was okay after the whole bee thing.

Neon lights spin and flicker around you in ways you’re sure are entirely unnecessary, and music blares loud enough to make your head throb to the beat. The room smells overwhelmingly floral, though you swear every so often you can catch a hint of ham drifting through the garden of aromas. It’s not hard to discern where it might be coming from; Jared is sitting directly in front of you, glittering even through the paper bag he’s shoved over his head. This whole thing is overblown, extraneous, nauseating, and so perfectly _Jared_.

Staring hard at the back of his head, or rather the bag that covers it, you can’t help wonder if he’s doing alright. It’s no secret that he’s been stressed over the fashion show, especially after yesterday’s little disaster. You have plenty of experience being stressed, as you’re sure Nick and Josh would be happy to point out, so if _you’re_ worried about him… You’re sure that doesn’t bode well for Jared’s mental state. You wish you could have done something to help, but that’s Hana’s job, isn’t it? You wouldn’t want to get in the way.

(Even if you can’t help but tell yourself you would.)

You cheer and clap politely as each model walks out, already wondering when this will be over so you can get back to the dorms and wash Jared’s girly ham smell off of yourself. You willfully ignore the fact that you’re applauding less enthusiastically than even Josh. If you’re lucky, everyone will just think you’re still mad about the poster thing. Everyone except Jared, that is.

You used to be alright with him being angry at you. It used to excite you. Maybe you just know better now, or maybe you’re starting to feel guilt. You hope it’s the former.

You wonder why he’s still bothering with the whole thing. Without him in the actual show, he might as well not have any involvement at all. You know how hard he’s worked, organizing the outfits and directing each and every model and picking just the right person to play each part in this carefully crafted machine… But the whole point was that it was supposed to be _Jared’s_ show, wasn’t it? Knowing Jared, normally he’d push back the date until his face had healed, with no regard for who he might inconvenience in the process. This is just… unlike him.

Is it Hana? Has she changed him? If she has, you’re sure it’s for the better, but—

Cheers sound all around you, and it isn’t until you glance back up at the stage that you realize why. Hana has just stepped onto the stage, garbed in a dress at least three sizes too large. A row in front of you, Jared leans over and whispers something to Satch in an urgent tone. The music drowns his voice out, so you vow to just ignore it. Instead you clap, much louder than you had before, even letting out a few cheers along with the rest of your friends.

Now that you’ve finally discerned what your problem is, you’ve promised to yourself that you won’t let it affect the way you look at Hana anymore. You’re better than that. Hana’s a nice girl, she had no idea what she was doing when she asked Jared to the festival, and neither did you, really. There was no way you could have stopped her and she had no reason to think she was hurting you. With that out of the way, you’re going to just put it all behind—

Somehow, you hear the crash before you see Hana sprawled on the catwalk. You’re not sure how, especially when the music is so loud and you can safely say you never took your eyes off of her for a second. The audience is dead quiet around you as Hana lays stock still on the floor, and yet the booming music and blaring lights stop for no one.

Slowly, Hana rises to all fours, and you let go of a breath you hadn’t realized you’d been holding. That’s right. She can recover from this. She sways unsteadily as she tries to stand, only to fall back down to her knees. She tries again and the same thing happens. By the third attempt Jared bolts out of his seat, making his way through the row with alarming speed. As he brushes past Mai, she stands, clearly intending to follow him, but he shouts to her, “They won’t let you backstage! Just stay here; I promise I’ll be right back!” He finally slips out of the crowd and into the open aisle, just as Hana manages to drag herself backstage on her hands and knees.

Mai stays rooted to her seat for all of three minutes before she loudly declares, “Fuck it,” and stands back up, dragging PBG along with her. You wouldn’t have expected anything less.

You sit solemnly for the rest of the show, applauding lightly at each incoming model and ignoring the nervous glances Nick and Josh share when they think you’re not looking. You try to focus on the stage, on the outfits, even on Nick and Josh. On anything else, really.

But no matter how hard you try to will your mind away from it, you can’t help but wonder: if Jared had somehow dated you instead, would this have happened?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i chose "shiragiku" for the name of paul, nick, and josh's hometown, because to me it sounded like a big city name, and that's the kind of environment i imagine paul grew up in. "shiragiku" means "white chrysanthemum" in japanese, to go along with the theme of every place being named after a flower. also, in japanese flower languages, white chrysanthemums mean "truth," which reminded me of the honesty vs integrity choice in continue's route.


	7. buy you and sell you for celebrity status

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> gggggggguess what time it is

This time, you don’t find out from Satch. You don’t find out from Jared, either, but you’re not sure you would have wanted that at this point. You find out from Josh, of all people, who shuffles his feet awkwardly when entering your dorm that night and says, “So, uh. Someone said Jared snuck alcohol into the fashion show.” Never one to beat around the bush. You just sit on the edge of the bottom bunk and listen, keeping a straight face as not to give anything away.

And you think on it, for a long time, lying awake in bed for much longer than you should. And you realize that, ordinarily, it wouldn’t bother you much if it weren’t for the implications of it. Because the way Josh said it, like he was seriously concerned about Jared’s well-being, strikes worry in you as well. Maybe… maybe something is wrong. Maybe you don’t know Jared as well as you _think_ you do.

Really, that should have been obvious from the start. There’s something about the way Jared _presents_ himself, something that makes it feel like he’s just putting on a show. You’ve always noticed it, but you never thought to connect it to any kind of deep-seated issues he might have been hiding. Now you can’t stop searching for other signs you might have missed.

You’re serious when you say you normally wouldn’t care. You’ve tried a little bit before, begrudgingly, and only because other people were doing it. So you can’t really get _too_ angry at him about it, but you’d be lying if you said you didn’t care. Maybe you’re not mad, but… this is your crush. You care way more than you’re willing to admit.

And then there’s _Hana_ —sweet, sweet Hana, who never did anything to hurt you. Who loves Jared dearly, even if she hasn’t said it out loud yet; it’s clear to anyone just how much she cares about him. Who might have just _taken_ some of the alcohol that Jared snuck backstage and drank it, drank it until she was a stumbling mess on the runway. No one said she took it, and you really don’t want to believe she did, but you really can’t deny the possibility. It just seems so _obvious_. And would that mean Hana _knows_ whatever’s going on with Jared? Then they would be working through it _together_ , making her so much closer to him than you could _ever_ be...

So you continue thinking, until it’s 5 AM and the sky is starting to turn blue. And as you pull the covers over your head in a pitiful attempt to get a bit of rest tonight, you decide something.

You can’t do this any more.

So when you pull on your Normal Boots Jacket that morning, the first words out of your mouth are, “I’m going to tell Jared to stay away from us.” You don’t look at Nick and Josh as you say it; instead you stare at your hands as you fiddle with your uniform tie. You say it as casually as you can, hoping that somehow you can get them to believe it’s not as big of a deal as it actually is.

There’s a long, distinct pause (in which you’re sure Nick and Josh look at each other before they look at you, as they _always_ do), before Nick says, “Paul…,” is his usual warning tone.

“I just,” you start, searching for the excuse you prepared last night, “don’t want him to get in the way of the campaign. It’ll only be temporary; just until things die down!” You look up from your hands now, immediately locking eyes with Josh in a desperate attempt to prove your point (and isn’t it oh so very telling how, just a few seconds into your argument, you’ve already gotten desperate?). “Josh, you know how rumors are at this school. This—this could ruin _everything_.” You don’t actually believe a word of it—Jared is just about untouchable as far as rumors go, so even though the rumors will inevitably spread, they won’t last long and they certainly won’t reach you—but you like to think you’ve gotten pretty good at acting lately.

Apparently you thought wrong, because Josh narrows his eyes a little and mutters, “Don’t _lie_ to us.”

“What?” It comes out as more breath than actual sound, even though your lungs feel nearly empty. There’s… there’s no way. They couldn’t have _figured_ you out, could they? It would make enough sense. They know you better than anyone; you should have known you couldn’t lie to their faces.

Josh scowls, a look full of disgust and pity, before Nick speaks, his voice much softer than usual. “We _know_ what this is about,” he tells you, and for a moment you feel your stomach drop, falling and falling like an elevator with its support cords severed, “and you really need to stop antagonizing Jared.” The falling comes to an abrupt halt, and you have to stare at the two of them for a few moments before you find the proper words to say.

Even then, all that comes out is, “Are you guys serious…?” Surely they can’t be. They still think you’re mad about the posters? After all this time?

“He’s supposed to be our _friend_ ,” Josh hisses, his cheeks starting to flare red in anger, “whether you like it or not. I’d think that’s worth a lot more than a tiny risk on our campaign.” He stops there, but you know there’s a lot more he’d like to say; a lot he’s saying without words. _“We’re always taking risks. What’s one more?” “We haven’t even heard what Jared’s had to say yet.” “Stop being selfish.”_ But he doesn’t understand.

You almost want to laugh. Instead, you shake your head and mumble, “I can’t believe you two.”

You realize that doesn’t help at all when Nick gives you a pleading look and says, “Paul, we know this is important to you, but we have to consider Jared’s feelings, too—”

“No, that’s not what I—” you cut in, fishing desperately for the right words to justify your idea, “you guys don’t understand. That isn’t it at all.”

“You keep saying that,” Nick points out, looking everywhere but at you, “but you never give us any reason to believe it’s true.”

“Believe…?” _You_ can’t believe this is happening to you. “You guys should _trust_ me!” you cry, taking a step closer to them, but they still feel so far away. “I’m your—” You stop short, the words getting caught in your throat.

_“I’m your best friend.”_

You’re _supposed_ to be their best friend. It was supposed to be the three of you, forever and always. Is this all that’s left?

Nick looks like he wants to say something more, but Josh beats him to it, stepping forward until he’s just a foot away. “How do you expect us to trust you when you never tell us a damn thing? Maybe we’d believe you’re not mad at Jared if you told us what else your fucking problem is!”

You don’t even think before retorting, “ _I_ don’t tell you anything?” Maybe you should, but it’s far too late; your body is working on autopilot, eerily controlled despite the hammering of your heart in your chest. You look Josh dead in the eyes as you speak next. “At least _I_ would tell you if I started dating someone. Especially if that _someone_ was my best friend since second grade.” Recognition alights in Josh’s eyes, and you watch as the color drains from his cheeks. “Yeah,” you continue, “I know about that.”

Josh takes a careful step back, wrapping his arms firmly around his waist. Nick rests a comforting (and _loving_ , you’re sure) hand on his shoulder. “We were going to tell you,” he offers, but it’s not nearly enough to stop you now.

“When?” you demand to know, and when you don’t get your answer, you ask again. “When?! Because it’s been a week since I found out, and I haven’t heard a _word_ from either of you!” You take a breath, willing yourself to keep your composure. “So? How long were you planning to keep me out of the loop?”

Neither of them say anything. You’re not sure you want them to.

“See?” You speak quietly, but your voice sounds so loud in the silence of the room. “You guys ask me why I’m upset, but it’s obvious. You two get to be happy, while I...,” you wonder if you should keep going, but the words are out of your mouth before you can stop them, “ _I_ have to stand back and watch the first person I’ve really, actually _liked_ in _years_ run off with some girl we hardly know!”

Silence. Your shoulders are bunched up near your ears, locked in place. Slowly, you turn and pick up your book bag, hoisting it over your shoulder and heading towards the door. You don’t think about the movements, instead relying on muscle memory alone. It isn’t until your hand is on the doorknob that Nick calls out, “Paul, we didn’t—”

“Not a word,” you tell him, your voice oddly hoarse, “or you’re both off of my campaign team.” You know it’s terribly childish of you, and you’re not even sure you mean it, but it gets them to shut up, which is all you really want.

You open the door and step outside without so much as a look back. You wonder if this is it; maybe you’ve just ruined the last good thing you had going for you. No matter how much you want to seem cold and collected right now, you have no idea what you’re going to do without Nick and Josh there to catch you when you fall.

You close the door behind you and walk to class by yourself for the first time in three years.

 

You wait until after lunch to talk to him. You couldn’t do it at the table, not with Nick and Josh giving you wary looks from your right (today Nick sat in the middle; the only sign that anything had happened between the three of you). And after the disaster that was this morning, you couldn’t stand the idea of the rest of your friends’ faces turning sour towards you. They’ll find out eventually; you just want to delay the inevitable for as long as possible.

You really don’t have much time left.

You find him standing near a bench outside, Hana rubbing his shoulders. Panic seizes you instantly. God, the last thing you want is for _Hana_ to hate you. You can just imagine her face falling already, tears springing to her eyes as she realizes just how hard you’re trying to push Jared out of your life. But before you can retreat, the two of them turn around and catch sight of you. You remind yourself that this is only temporary and put on your best smile as you approach.

“Paul?” Hana lets her hands fall from Jared’s shoulders as she turns to face you fully. “What’s up?” she asks, the perfect picture of naivete. You don’t want to break that, but you’re not sure you can come up with a good enough answer to play the whole thing off.

You think about it, though, and what ends up coming out of your mouth is, “Uh… hey guys.” You find yourself staring at your feet as you speak, shuffling them against the grass so you don’t have to think about how you might be hurting Jared. Because you _noticed_ the way he acted at lunch, like you always do: fidgety, nervous, distant, and withdrawn. Here he is, terrified his friends will push him away, and here you are, doing just that for completely unrelated reasons. Using Jared’s weakness as an excuse.

“I don’t really know how to go about saying this,” you start, scratching at the back of your head awkwardly. You force yourself to raise your gaze just a little, and end up staring dumbly at Jared’s knee. “So…,” you search for the right words to say, anything that might hurt Jared a little less, “you know that I’m running for student council president, right? And image is very important to that, right?” Maybe that will help him to understand; after all, no one cares more about his own image than Jared.

You force yourself to keep a straight face as you continue, but you still end up floundering. “Um… So, I don’t personally care what you do in your free time,” you don’t think you’ve told a bigger lie in your life, but you’re not about to let that stop you now. “I don’t care whether you drink or don’t, like, personally I just don’t give a damn.” Okay, that’s less of a lie. But you care about the _reasons_ he might be drinking. You’ll be thinking about the reasons for weeks. “But some of the students and faculty might care, and it would be bad if I got a reputation for doing things like that…”

This time, you force yourself to look at his face, keeping your face as blank as you possibly can. Jared looks back at you with an expression of complete indifference that somehow still looks practiced. “Your reputation might survive, Jared,” you tell him, “but I don’t have your god-like good looks.” You decide not to linger on that subject any longer than you need to. “I can’t afford to have people thinking I’m an alcoholic because of you.” And you still don’t believe that’s even a remote possibility; when you word it like this it just sounds even more ludicrous. There’s no way sort-of bad rumors about Jared would turn into _worse_ rumors about you. “So…,” you search for a proper way to present your point, but Hana cuts in before you can find the words.

“B-because of him?!” she growls between gritted teeth, and it almost throws you off completely. The last thing you expected was for Hana—fragile, sweet, gentle Hana—to get _angry_. You don’t blame her.

“What I’m saying,” you explain, trudging forward through your speech despite Hana’s eyes burning holes in your forehead, “is that I need to spend less time around you.” Finally, something based in truth. Still, you try to reword it so it sounds a little less cold. Because no matter how much you’d like to leave your emotions out of this… well, they’re why you’re doing this in the first place, aren’t they? “Or I would appreciate it if you could spend less time around me…,” you can feel your heart stutter, and immediately you correct yourself with, “er, us.” The less personal he thinks this is, the better. “I feel really bad, man, but that’s just how it is,” you say, with a touch of finality, as if to tell him this is out of your hands. The reality is that you’ve never been more in control of a decision in your life.

“What the hell, Paul?!” Hana cries, taking a step forward to fix you with the nastiest look you’ve ever seen on her. “You should be—you should be better than this!” She’s absolutely right; you should be, but you’re not. You talk about bettering the school and improving things for everyone, but the moment a friend needs your support you can’t help but let your feelings get in the way. Hana turns back to Jared, looking like she just might burst. “Right? Tell him, Jared!”

You look back to Jared’s face, and see something that wasn’t there before: weakness. Slowly, he shakes his head, holding up a hand towards Hana. Then, he looks back to you, and the hurt look in his eyes is gone, replaced with a steely glint. You wonder if you just imagined it. “No, it’s fine. I get it. Image is everything,” he says, and you’re not sure if you should feel disappointed or relieved that he’s willing to let you go so easily. Either way, you heave out a long sigh, letting your muscles relax. The worst of it is over.

You put on your best smile and start speaking on instinct, wanting turn tail as soon as possible so you can forget any of this ever happened. “I’m glad you understand, Jared! It’s really nothing to do with you—”

(It’s everything to do with him. It’s about his smile, the curl of his hair and the way the light hits his face from his usual seat in the classroom. But more than that, it’s about the way he laughs with only the guys around, the twinkle in his eyes when he talks about his favorite games, and the way he always outsmarts you during your stupid arguments. It’s always, always been about Jared. You’ve just gotten good at lying about it.)

“Yeah, it’s fine,” Jared repeats, this time with a tight-lipped smile. “I get it.”

You smile right back, beginning to take quick steps backwards in a thinly-veiled attempt to make a run for it. “Awesome!” you call out, pointing over your shoulder as the distance between the two of you grows wider and wider. “I gotta get to class, can’t be late,” there’s still ten minutes until class starts, so that’s hardly an excuse, “but I’ll see you—” You stop in your tracks, catching your mistake just as fondness begins to well up in your chest. “I mean… I’ll…”

You stare at the ground a good fifteen feet away, where Jared still stands, the sides of his normally pristine uniform shoes scuffed with dirt. You feel the rush of emotion hit you at last, all the day’s events coming to rest on your shoulders like heavy, heavy weights. The incessant need to apologize tugs at your tongue, but it’s far overshadowed by the overwhelming desire to wrap your arms around Jared and hold him close, as long as it takes for him to smile again.

Most of all, you don’t want to go. But it's not like you've left yourself many other options. “Uh, bye,” is all you spit out before turning on your heel and running off, unable to focus on anything other than the tightness in your chest and a dull sense of wanting.


	8. shut your mouth

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> every chapter i'm just like, "wow this is going to hell right guys," but say goodbye to that bc we've reached rock bottom
> 
> we can only go up from here

You swear you feel Jared’s eyes on you all throughout class. He sits in the back of the room today, far away from you, from Satch, from Nick and Josh—from everyone, really. You’re glad to see he’s not putting up much of a fight, but you really wish he didn’t have to bore holes into the back of your head instead.

You _think_ it’s Jared who’s staring you down—that’s what you assume—until class ends and each of your friends make their way out of the room. As Jared passes by you, you notice that he doesn’t spare you a second glance as he makes a beeline for the classroom door. If he had really been staring at you so much, wouldn’t he at least look at you for a second?

Guilt twists in your stomach, but it’s quickly overwhelming by a looming feeling of self-pity. Maybe he just doesn’t care about what you think of him. Maybe your opinion just never meant that much to him in the first place. Maybe… maybe this isn’t affecting him at _all_.

“So…” A familiar voice pulls you out of your own mind. It’s only now, as you turn around to face its source, that you realize the classroom has emptied out. Even Mr. Saitomo has taken off. Now it’s just you—you and Jeff, who’s looking at you with a kind of intensity that feels awfully familiar.

Part of you thinks he’s the last person you want to talk to right now, but you know that’s not true, because Jared, Nick, and Josh all outrank him right now. But you’re really not in the mood to talk about the election. You’re sure thinking about it will only stress you out more, especially since you may have just lost the other two members of your campaign team. “So?” you echo, shooting him what you hope is an intimidating look.

It must have been pretty pathetic, because Jeff stands his ground. “What’s going on with you and Jared?”

The grip you have on your history textbook tightens. You lift it up from your desk and hold it tight to your chest, hoping Jeff doesn’t notice how pale your knuckles have gone. That’s right, Jeff normally sits at the back of the room. Maybe Jared had sat next to him? “What did he tell you?” you ask, trying to keep your voice level. The last thing you want is for Jeff to find out all of your weaknesses and use them to his advantage, but if Jared’s already told him, then it’s much too late to play dumb.

But Jeff hops up and takes a seat on top of a nearby desk, and all of a sudden this conversation feels a lot more casual. Sure, he’s still staring at you like you somehow hold all of the unknown secrets of the universe, but at least he’s not just standing there, unwavering, looking fully ready to strike you down.. “He didn’t say anything to me,” he says, and you want to smack yourself. Wow. Doing a great job at keeping your weaknesses a secret, there. “He was just sitting kind of far away from everyone today, and I thought to myself, ‘Hey, why would he do that?’ And the two of you never really get along, so I just figured, you know....”

You blink. “You haven’t heard?”

Jeff blinks right back. “Heard what?”

With the way rumors work at this hellhole of a school, you never figured you’d have to be the one to break this news to anyone. But then again, members of Hidden Block seem to have this extraordinary way of living on a separate plane of existence from the rest of the general student body. So you take a deep breath, pursing your lips and staring down at your shoes before you open your mouth to explain. “Jared got caught sneaking alcohol backstage during the fashion show.”

The look of confusion on Jeff’s face drops, and it’s just as quickly replaced with a look of pure shock. So he really _hadn’t_ heard. “Oh,” he breathes, his voice awfully quiet against the overwhelming silence of the classroom. The piercing look in his eyes has disappeared; now he’s looking at you with a sort of weakness you’re not sure you’ve ever seen from him. “I—I didn’t go to the fashion show.”

“Yeah,” you mutter. “That much seems apparent.”

Jeff’s eyes narrow a little, and you swear, if looks could kill. Jeff may be a pretty amiable guy, but he’s stopped pulling punches with you ever since he announced his candidacy. To this day, you’ve been unable to get word from him about why he decided to run against you. You wonder if you ever will.

(But it’s funny. Before the election, you had hardly interacted with him outside of general interactions with the Hidden Block Club. This election has sent a standard for your interactions; it’s given you a _relationship_ with Jeff that you don’t have with the other members of Hidden Block. In a strange, vitriolic way, it’s almost like the two of you are bonding.)

When Jeff’s glare doesn’t waver, you heave out a sigh and fix him with an apologetic look. “It’s just… everyone’s been talking about it. I would think, as a candidate for student office, you would be paying attention to the conversations your people are having.”

Something flashes in Jeff’s eyes, but you can tell you haven’t struck a nerve. No, you’ve just touched on common ground—a subject both you and Jeff can understand (you’d argue that you, as a current member of student council, you understand it better, but that’s neither here nor there). The corner of his lips twitches as he speaks, making it abundantly clear he’s holding back a smile. “I’ve just kind of been in my own world today. That’s all.”

You hum thoughtfully, but unlike Jeff, you don’t make any effort to hide your smile. “Well, let’s just hope the rest of the student body fits into that world, huh?” Grabbing your notebook (with the pen already stuck down the spiral), you turn and walk out of the room without another word. You have tournament practice to attend.

You swear you feel Jeff’s eyes on you the whole time.

Huh.

 

Normal Boots Club’s planned practice session after class continues as planned. All except for one thing.

“What the hell are you doing here?” Jared turns to look at you, his eyes wide in disappointment—no, _hurt_ —and you have to shut off a certain part of your brain to stop yourself from feeling immense guilt. “I _told_ you not to come.” You set your books down on the nearest table and take a step forward, but Satch holds an arm out between the two of you before you can get any closer.

“Jared thought,” Satch starts, his voice noticeably softer than yours had been, “that he should at least be able to practice with the rest of us, since he’ll still be competing with us in the tournament.” He says it with a touch of finality, letting you know that is inarguable. And okay, fine, you can deal with that. There will be loads of people at the tournament; it’ll be easy to avoid him. Besides, you’re sure trying to negotiate Jared’s place in the tournament is a line you really shouldn’t cross. The tournament is much more important than your silly little feelings, and it always will be.

But that _doesn’t_ mean you’re going to spend all this time around Jared when he could very well just be practicing on his own. That’s just—that ruins his whole plan—it just goes against the _point_ —and yeah, they don’t know the _real_ point, but—you just need some time—you can’t have him around muddying things up with his sparkle and his voice and his fucking _smile_ —

“That isn’t fair,” you protest, and you know it’s weak, but you’re honestly at a loss. You can feel yourself picking up momentum, though, the words spilling out of your mouth faster than you can control them. “The… the election is really important to me.” _Jared is really important to me,_ you almost say. “The tournament is about skill. Jared has that. He could just practice on his own and we could still win.” _He could just practice on his own so I’d be fine._ “The election is about the _people_. And right now the _people_ don’t like Jared as much as they should.” _Right now_ I _l_ _ike Jared more than I should._ “I just need some time for that to pass.” The look you give Satch is one part pleading and another part demanding. “Just give me that much. _Please._ ”

Satch looks at you and then he looks at Jared, and for a second it looks like he wants to say something, something big, but then he just sighs. “If you two need to talk about this, do it away from the group.”

He steps out from in between you two, and you’re on Jared in seconds, grabbing him by the wrist and yanking him down aisles of bookshelves until you’ve found a corner far enough away from the rest of the club. “Okay, seriously?” you hiss once you’ve let go of him. “I thought we had an agreement.”

Jared doesn’t look you in the eyes. “Satch said it would be fine.” You realize, studying the expression on his face, that he might be a little focused on the fact that Satch let you go so easily. Something acidic bubbles in your gut. You pretend you don’t know what it is.

(It’s jealousy. It’s always jealousy.)

“This wasn’t _Satch’s_ decision to make!” you cry, perhaps a bit too loud for the library. “It was mine!”

The look on Jared’s face hardens. “Well, it’s not like you would let me close enough to you so I could _ask_ if I could come.”

 _There’s a reason for that,_ you think, but you’re much too focused on the obvious walls standing between the two of you to say anything about it. You put up these walls; you really have no right to complain, but… _but…_ “To _ask?_ We already went over this! When I told you to stay away from me, that was what I was doing! I _asked_ you not to come, so I expected you not to be here!”

Jared doesn’t even wait for you to finish; he’s talking before you’ve gotten all of the words out of your mouth. “To _stay away_ from you?!” He meets your eyes this time, and for a second you expect all the walls to come crashing down, but they still stand, taller than ever. “I can handle not being around in public, but this is the library, and no one comes to the Cooking and New Age sections anyways!”

“That—that doesn’t _matter!_ ” you find yourself sputtering, because _shit_ , he’s got a point.

(And also because there’s a small part of you that feels this little _rush_ that you haven’t felt in weeks. God, you missed this, you missed your dumb little arguments, you missed trying and failing to outsmart him… You missed _Jared_ , but you can’t let yourself succumb to temptation. You know that if you let yourself get a taste of something you like, it’s only going to make it hurt more once you remember you can’t have it. You can’t have him.)

“You’re still _here_ , and it’s just not going to be _good_ for me—”

“No one is going to see—” Jared starts and oh, right. The election. That’s what this is supposed to be about, isn’t it? You find yourself incredibly grateful that he brought it up, because you had nearly forgotten.

“But if they do?” you press, but Jared isn’t budging.

“But it won’t happen!” he cries, and you can’t help but think that, in another life, this conversation could have been about something else entirely. But you’re not living in that life, and you really shouldn’t be dreaming about it. Especially not now.

“You can’t know it won’t,” you insist.

But Jared, more than accustomed to your stubbornness, is quick to turn your argument back on you. “You can’t know that it will!”

“Okay, but the point is that I can’t afford the risk!” you spit out, and alright, now you’re _sure_ the two of you are being too loud for the library. You lower your voice a few decibels, leaning closer to make up for the lack of volume. And because you apparently love to hurt yourself. “Jared, if people think I agree with what you did, it’s going to _ruin_ me.” There. At least this time you’ve managed to word it in a way that doesn’t sound like complete bullshit. “You understand that, don’t you?”

“I… I _do_ ,” Jared replies, and all of a sudden there’s a hint of desperation in his voice, “but the Normal Boots Club…” He closes his mouth, as if he’s suddenly thought better of whatever he was going to say, but then his face softens and he continues anyways. “The Normal Boots Club means a lot to me. I made a mistake, and I’m sorry. I really… I don’t know what else I can say to convince you.” You have to pry your eyes away from his face, instead directing them down to stare at your shoes. No weakness. You can’t let him know. Out of all the possible ways this conversation could end, that would be the worst case scenario. “I just… I know we don’t exactly get along, but… I thought we were _friends_ , Paul.”

There’s something so _vulnerable_ in Jared’s voice. It’s something you’ve never heard in any argument you’ve had with him before. You know you shouldn’t look at him; you know that if you do, the consequences of everything you’ve done today will hit you all at once, and you’ll feel nothing but immense guilt.

But you look anyways.

And you don’t feel guilt. No, what you feel is much, much worse.

You feel like you want to kiss him, more than you’ve ever wanted to kiss anyone in your life.

It’s not much of a contest, really. You crush rarely, but when you do they always seem to stick, and you always find yourself unable to pull away from the object of your affections. It’s never been this bad before, though. You’ve always managed to pull yourself together _somehow_.

With Jared, that’s getting harder and harder to do.

You reach out to him, lifting your hand up until it’s just inches away from his shoulder. Jared sees what you’re doing before you can actually touch him, his eyes widening just a fraction, anticipating your next movement…

And then his gaze suddenly shifts to the right, and when you follow it you catch a flash of pink moving closer and closer to your little hideaway. Hana. You let your hand drop to your side, turning your head to read the spines of the books on the shelves closest to you.

You don’t see her stop in front of the aisle so much as you hear her footsteps come to a halt. “Guys? Are you ready to join us?”

You risk another look at Jared, and you _hate_ the way your heart catches in your throat when you find out he was already looking at you. He raises an eyebrow, and to Hana it might look expectant, but you can only see _hopeful_.

You throw your hands up. “Fine,” you say, turning to face Hana now. “Yeah, we’re ready.” Next to you, you see Jared shrug, which could only mean one thing: while he cares about Normal Boots Club, he’s not sure how much he cares about you anymore.

Feeling jealousy boil in your gut once again, you turn on your heel and jab an index finger in his direction. “This club may be important to you,” you mutter, just quiet enough so Hana can’t make out the words, “but this election is even more important to me. Understood?”

Jared doesn’t reply. He just rolls his eyes, only confirming your suspicions. He doesn’t care; not about you _or_ your election.

_“I want you to win presidency again, Paul, I really do.”_

“Then join us,” Hana says, and you nod, stepping past Jared and back into reality.


	9. when the lights go down

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> oh god it's been nearly two months since i last updated,,,,, super sorry for the wait, guys!! life got in the way, i guess. this chapter is a little rushed in places, but i hope it's well worth the wait!! things will only get happier from here, i promise.

When you get back to the dorm that night, Nick and Josh are waiting for you. Josh is perched on the edge on the bottom bunk, scowling and holding the sheets beneath him in a death grip. He doesn’t look at you when you walk in, but the way he holds himself shows more vulnerability than it does anger. Nick is standing only a few feet from the doorway, as if he was expecting you to walk in any second now. “Paul, look,” he starts immediately, probably afraid you’ll just try to ignore him, “I know you’re upset, and you have every right to be, but we should really talk about this.”

Well, you knew you couldn’t avoid them forever.

 _“You’re the ones who avoided talking about it in the first place,”_ is what you want to say. Honestly, you want to scream and yell and throw a fit in the middle of the room, but you’re far too tired for that, you’re…

No. That’s a lie. This was never what you wanted.

So the words that come out instead are, “I’m sorry.”

Nick’s eyes go wide. Across the room, you can see Josh lift his head up to stare at you. “What?” Nick mumbles, barely more than a breath in the deafening quiet of the room.

“I…,” you take a breath, realizing with sudden clarity just how cold the room feels (you have _goosebumps_ ), “I was a real dick to you guys this morning. You didn’t deserve that.”

“No,” Josh says, still not moving from his spot on the bottom bunk. “This was all… It was all me, okay? He really wanted to tell you, but I was scared of what you’d say or do and it was just really _stupid_ of me.” He squeezes his eyes shut, and you realize belatedly that he’s holding back tears. “Because I know you wouldn’t—you’d _never_ do anything to hurt us, and I should have trusted you, but…” He lets out a long exhale, his grip on the bed sheets visibly relaxing. “...But I was just scared of you leaving. Or something like that. I guess.”

“Josh…,” Nick sighs, and you find you’re more amused than upset when he’s by the other boy’s side in seconds. You hadn’t really given it much thought before, so caught up in your own frustration and unrequited feelings, but watching Nick take his hand and sit by his side, you know you’re happy for them. You just wish you had let them know that sooner.

But now that you have the chance, you’re not going to let it pass by. You follow Nick’s lead, making your way to the bunk bed and kneeling down in front of Josh. You take his free hand carefully, running your thumb over the back of it for a few silent seconds before speaking. “You don’t have any reason to be sorry,” you start, and when Josh open his mouth to argue you hold a hand up to stop him. “Ah, ah, ah, let me finish! You two… you two are my best friends in the world. You know that. But that relationship isn’t one-sided. I guess what I’m saying is… I don’t think I did a good job of being a best friend to both of you today. I didn’t know anything about the situation you two were in. I didn’t know why you weren’t telling me or how long you had been together or… anything, really. I had no right to put pressure on the two of you to tell me. You guys should have been able to tell me whenever you were ready, and I… I ruined that for you.” You hold Josh’s hand a little tighter, finally looking up to meet his eyes as you finish your spiel. “So I’m sorry.”

Josh smiles, and relief floods through you. “Thanks,” he says, leaning a little against Nick’s side as he speaks. “Now get up. It kind of looks like you’re going to suck my dick and I’m not sure how Nick would feel about that.”

Nick hums in thought as he watches you scramble to your feet. “It’s okay if it’s Paul,” he finally decides.

Josh nods, closing his eyes and raising a hand to his chin in an almost studious manner. “Good to know.”

“No!” you cry, trying to resist the urge to gag as you clamber onto the bed and take a seat on Josh’s other side. “No, we’re never talking about this again, don’t even make me _think_ about that.” It’s not that they’re not great guys—anyone would be lucky to be with them—but they’re like brothers to you. You can’t even _imagine…_ Yeah, no, definitely not entertaining the thought any further.

“We’ve been together for almost a month now,” Nick explains, stifling a laugh at your exaggerated reaction. “Since you asked. This actually never would have happened if you hadn’t stayed here for the Flower Festival, so…,” he beams, the most genuine smile you’ve seen from him all day, “thanks, I guess.”

“Wait,” you start, finding that Nick’s smile is contagious, “so I’m the reason you two are together? I’m a little proud of myself.”

“Yeah, thanks for staying home like a dateless loser,” Josh mutters, reaching up and ruffling your hair as gently as possible (which still leaves it looking like an absolute wreck). “But really, it’s not like you did _all_ the work. I was the one who bought him cake.”

Nick scoffs, letting go of Josh’s hand to place his palm firmly on the other boy’s knee instead. “ _I_ won you a stuffed animal from the crane game,” he hisses, leaning in closer to glare at him. Oh, right. You had been wondering where Josh got that scruffy-looking fox plush.

Josh rolls his eyes, almost as if he doesn’t want to engage, but of course he does. “I was the one who asked you to dance at the bonfire.”

“Well, I was the one who said yes!”

“ _I_ was the one who dragged you over to the field so we could be alone.”

“And _I_ was the one who said I liked you!”

“ _I_ kissed you!”

“Well, I...,” Nick struggles to find the right comeback, and finally settles on, “I kissed you back…”

Josh doesn’t seem impressed. “I liked you longer. Since fifth grade.”

You lean forward to meet Nick’s eyes, and he understands the question in your expectant gaze almost immediately. “Okay, fine. He’s got me beat. I’ve only liked him since eighth.”

You press the palm of your hand against your mouth, trying to hide the smile that surely shines through. “I’m glad you two are happy,” you say as you finally accept defeat, placing your hand back on the bed. “Seriously. You deserve it. Even if it forces me into a perpetual life of third-wheeling.”

This earns a laugh out of both of them, but it’s gone as soon as it came. Nick stares at his and Josh’s intertwined hands for a long moment before speaking. “So. Jared.” You expect the words to wipe away your good mood entirely, but instead you just feel a little worn down. Like you suddenly remember where you are and what you’re doing, but now you can look at it much more clearly than you could before.

So of course you let out another little laugh, which turns into more of a whimper, before you crumple, leaning down and resting your forehead on your kneecaps as the whimper turns into a groan. “I’m such a dumbass, guys. I’m so stupid.” You turn your head a little, just enough to see Nick and Josh looking down at you with worry in their eyes. “I shouldn’t have done any of that, honestly, but I just… I needed _time,_ you know? Time to get over it. I didn’t even realize I _liked_ him until a week ago. I thought I was _straight_ until a week ago! Everything just feels… a little jarring.” You pull yourself back up now, rolling your shoulders back when they ache in protest. “I guess I should have just taken a break from Normal Boots myself, but I don’t know what kind of excuse I could have used… Whatever. The damage is already done.”

“It _was_ pretty shitty of you,” Josh points out after a moment, only for Nick to elbow him in the side. “What? No, come on, he needs to hear this.”

“He already knows it was shitty of him!” Nick protests. “He doesn’t need you to tell him that.”

“No Nick, it’s fine,” you tell him, holding out a hand to keep them from arguing any further. “I need him around to be honest with me.” Out of the corner of your eye, you can see Josh mouth, _“See? I told you,”_ in Nick’s direction. “Do you wanna know what the worst part is? I think I _wanted_ him to hate me. Because, like… I guess it’s easier if he doesn’t want to be around me in the first place. Maybe that’s why I didn’t just do it the other way. Either way, I can’t just take it back now. Not after I screamed in his face in the library today.”

Nick scrunches his eyebrows together, looking equal parts concerned and confused. “I mean… you could always apologize? Admit you were wrong and stuff.”

You let out a heavy sigh, feeling yourself deflate with the weight of your issues. “It’s already too _late_ for that. It’s been done. There’s no way he’d forgive me now.”

Nick and Josh look at each other, as they so often do, before looking at you, but they drop the subject without further complaint.

 

Life falls into a sort of rhythm after that. Jared shows up to class within five minutes of the late bell, and once class is over he’s the first one out the door. You’re not sure where he goes. To his dorm room, probably. You tell yourself it doesn’t matter as long as he keeps his distance. It’s not very reassuring.

Hana ends up joining him, and you’re sure that doesn’t surprise you, but it does anyways. You’re not sure you expected her to be this… _committed._ The first day she approaches the Normal Boots table, her eyes darting around the room while her brow furrows in confusion. You know what she’s looking for before she even sits down.

She meets your eyes, and you try not to look as guilty as you feel. You don’t think you succeed. “Hana…” It’s half mumble, half sigh, and it wipes the naive hope off of her face in an instant.

“Oh.” It’s just a single sound, but for some reason it hits you harder than most attempts to get through to you have. If there was one thing you didn’t want to do, it was hurt Hana, but now you see that there was no way to distance yourself from Jared without causing collateral damage. Hana was always going to be a causality. You should have realized that from the start.

Hana stares down at her food for a quiet moment, setting her jaw a little tighter. “It’s only for a little while…,” you tell her. You try to keep your voice steady, but no matter how evenly you speak you can still feel yourself furiously backpedaling, almost as if you’re trying to convince yourself the same thing.

(Because no matter how many times you tell yourself that this is for the best, you still try to sneak glances at someone who isn’t there.)

Hana looks back up, her gaze tearing through you in an instant. She’s silent for a brief second before she stands suddenly, her chair groaning in protest as it scrapes against the cafeteria floor. “Hana?” Mai starts, craning her head to get a good look at the other girl’s face.

“Sorry, I have somewhere I should be,” Hana says, keeping her voice as even as you wish you had kept your own. She keeps her eyes trained on you the entire time, her expression almost eerily unmoving. She turns on her heel and rushes through the sea of students, making a clear beeline for the cafeteria doors.

You don’t eat much after that. You find you’ve lost your appetite.

 

You only manage to catch bits and pieces of Jared after that. Quick glances as you brush by him in the hallway, the hushed sound of his voice in the middle of class… Satch insists on sitting next to him, and after a while Jirard joins him. Nick and Josh glance over their shoulders periodically throughout class, as if checking to make sure they’re alright. You wonder if they want to join them.

It’s for the best, you tell yourself. This is what you wanted.

But every time you look at Jared, you can see the slump of his shoulders, the dark circles under his eyes, the uncharacteristic frizz of his hair, your guilt weighs on you heavier and heavier.

This _is_ what you wanted, isn’t it? Because you’re not so sure anymore.

And then one day PBG and Mai miss lunch and things come screeching to a halt. When you ask Jon, he just shrugs and says PBG told him he wasn’t feeling well, but you know the truth. They’re with Jared and Hana.

You worry, for a full twenty-four hours, that they’ve picked a side, and that everyone else will eventually follow, until you’re left with Nick and Josh staying simply out of pity and misplaced loyalty... But the two of them are back the very next day, sitting in their usual spot and laughing and joking along with everyone else.

It’s only after your fear is subsided that you think to start stealing glances at Jared again. You peek over your shoulder in the middle of class, trying your hardest not to be obvious about it, but what you see has you frozen in place.

For the first time in over a week, you see a smile on Jared’s face. He’s saying something to Satch and Jirard, his hands moving about in animated gestures as he speaks. Then he _laughs,_ and you can’t hear it, but you can _see_ it—the way he hunches over and his eyes crinkle at the corners in pure _joy_ and you honestly want to cry.

What did PBG and Mai _do_ to him?

And then he turns, almost in slow-motion, and his eyes widen as he catches you staring. In a moment, it’s all gone. His face shuts down, and in seconds he’s transformed back into the Jared you’ve gotten used to seeing in small doses.

But as you turn back to the blackboard, you know that’s not the Jared you want. Not anymore.


	10. look around

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> it's the moment you've all been waiting for

You don’t _plan_ on waiting until the tournament to talk to him. But as the days pass by, you find it’s hard to find a moment to pull Jared aside when he’s spending all of his time avoiding you. You’ll stand up to get a word with him after class, and by then he’ll already be gone. You think about going directly to his dorm, but from what you can gather Hana has been devoting a lot of time to him as of late and, well… It’s not that you don’t _trust_ her, but you know she would be worried if you asked for a private word with Jared, and you really don’t need her listening in on your conversation. This isn’t something you want her to know about. So you’re stuck watching from the sidelines as Jared evades you yet again.

As it turns out, when you tell someone to stay away from you, they actually do it.

But no matter how hard he tries to comply to your wishes, there’s one place he _can’t_ avoid you. You arrive at the tournament half an hour early, and as soon as you see Jared enter the room you squeeze your way towards the crowd to meet him. Taking a retreating glance over your shoulder, you can see Nick waving goodbye and Josh flashing you a thumbs-up. Their free hands move until they’re intertwined, and you let a satisfied smirk rise to your face.

Perfect. So they’re not backing down on their end of the deal.

It had been a last-minute agreement, made only to help all of you take the last steps towards things you'd already wanted to do. You'll talk to Jared and explain everything, and Nick and Josh will tell the rest of the club about their relationship. Just a little something to discourage any of you from withdrawing.

No more hiding.

You make sure to keep your eyes firmly trained on Jared as you make your way through the clumps of people filling the room. Part of you is sure that if you look away he’ll find a chance to escape. But you had little reason to worry, because by the time you’ve reached his side he still hasn’t noticed your presence, probably due to the high energy atmosphere. You wrap your fingers around his wrist, making him start suddenly and turn around to get a good look at you.

You expect his face to shut down as soon as he recognizes you, but it doesn’t. Instead the two of you just stand there in silence, staring at each other while the life continues to move on around you. Jared’s eyes flicker down to your hands before they move back to your face, and you can almost hear all the questions he doesn’t ask. You yourself can feel all the words you want to say bubbling up in your throat, ready to spill over—

Someone clears their throat. Your gaze shifts, and it’s only now that you see Satch, PBG, and Jirard standing in a group just a few feet away. Satch is looking at you expectantly, one eyebrow quirked upwards—he was probably the one to get your attention, you realize—while PBG is frozen still, his eyes wide, looking slightly terrified to be witness to this event.

Jirard, glancing back and forth between the two of them, is the one who decides to have some sense. “Let’s give them some space,” he suggests, taking a wrist in each hand and gently tugging the two of them through the milling crowd of people. You can see Satch frown, as if silently complaining, and PBG still gaping at the two of you, but neither of them make a move to escape, and for that you are grateful. Jirard shoots you a quick, over-the-shoulder smile as the three of them disappear into the swarm of bodies, and it’s almost like he’s wishing you luck. You just hope Nick and Josh are ready for them.

You take a deep breath, letting a wave of calmness run through you. But then Jared says, “Paul,” scowling as he twists his wrist out of your grip, and anxiety crashes back down in buckets. “Don’t tell me I have to leave?” The look he gives you isn’t angry or even frustrated, just tired. “I thought we agreed I would be allowed to attend the tournament. You wouldn’t want Normal Boots to lose because I had to forfeit, would you?”

“What? Jared, no, I—” You shake your head violently, with absolutely no regard for how ridiculous it might look, because you seriously need to knock some sense into yourself before you start trying to speak coherently. “That’s not what this is about.” You try to keep your voice gentle—you’re not here to start a fight, after all—but Jared stays as stony-faced as ever. You feel a tiny, involuntary sigh escape your lips. “Can… can we maybe talk about this outside?”

Jared doesn’t respond at first, just staring at you with pursed lips and narrowed eyes, but after a moment he concedes, averting his gaze and shrugging his shoulders as if to say, _“Why not?”_ You turn your back to him as you lead him out, unsure you’d be able to focus on anything but the sheen of his hair or the way he avoids your eyes if you were walking side-by-side.

“So,” you start as soon as the two of you have found a semi-secluded corner, far enough so that the raucous music and cheering coming from the arcade becomes muted background noise.

Jared looks in your direction, but his eyes don’t quite meet yours. His stance is defensive as all hell, his legs tucked close together and his arms crossed tightly in front of his chest. “So?”

This is where you begin to falter. Truth be told, you weren’t even sure you would make it this far. Part of you thought Jared would push you away, refuse to talk to you, maybe even hide behind the rest of your friends. Rather than worrying about what you’d have to say, you were more concerned about how you’d actually get him to listen. It turns out that was the easy part. “So, uh…,” you find yourself rubbing at the back of your neck, hopelessly mouth-fishing as you stare at a piece of gum stuck to the white tile floor, “I just thought I’d kind of. Explain.”

You instinctively glance upwards, and your stomach drops as you see Jared tense, his hands grasping hard at the sleeves of his Normal Boots jacket. “Explain?”

“Um.” What you say is perhaps against your better judgement. “Yes?”

“You want to _explain,_ ” Jared repeats, his eyes narrowing dangerously, and this is the point at which you know you’ve fucked up. “After all of this. After you went to such lengths to push me away, after you made me withdraw from our friend group when you _knew_ things were stressful for me, after you made it so _clear_ that your campaign means more to you than I ever will… After all of that, you want to _explain?_ ” Something about the way he speaks, how easily the words flow, how he doesn’t even once trip over his words… It’s like it’s rehearsed. Like he thought about exactly how this would play out and practiced in the mirror.

...It’s probably bad that the thought of that makes your pulse jump.

“Jared—” you start, hoping you can get a word in, but you’re much too late. Jared has gotten his feet off the ground, and there’s no stopping him now.

“It’s like you never stop and take a single second to think about how your actions might affect others! Because even now, when you’ve given yourself the perfect opportunity to apologize, you don’t do it, because you haven’t even considered that you might have hurt me. All you can think about is telling me all about how your mind works, and how you thought you were totally justified in your actions, just so you can feel a little less sorry for yourself.” His face relaxes, going from resentful back to exhausted. “It’s really kind of sad. I don’t know if I’ve ever seen someone so truly and utterly caught up in themselves.”

He stares at you once he’s done, his intensity slowly dying with the realization of what he’s just done, and you use this time to recompose yourself. You squeeze your eyes shut tight, taking just a moment to let the weight of his words sink in. Because he’s right, in some ways. You were so focused on your own problems that you blinded yourself to a lot of things that were happening around you, clear as day. You let yourself become angry and bitter because you thought no one else could possibly understand. You thought everyone was out to get you.

But there’s one thing he’s wrong about, and that thing stands as the underlying foundation to his entire argument. “I wasn’t,” you mumble as you open your eyes, and you can see Jared _physically_ do a double take. “I wasn’t just focused on myself,” you repeat, clearer this time. “Maybe on my own problems, yes, but those problems didn’t just revolve around me, and they definitely existed before the alcohol came into the picture.”

For the first time in weeks you meet Jared’s eyes, and within seconds your heart worms its way up into your throat. Jared looks right back, his gaze unwavering, and you can’t help but notice that something in his eyes feels so much more _vulnerable_ than it did just a moment before. It doesn’t take you long to realize what it is: anticipation. He has no idea where you’re going with this, and all he can do is wait for you to continue.

And you don’t plan on making him wait any longer.

“Jared,” you start quietly, afraid to hear your words become real, “this entire time, I don’t think I’ve been focused on anything else but you.” You can see Jared’s eyes light up in recognition, but you pick back up before he can say a single word. “I was really stupid, okay? I know that. I mean, it took months to realize that you were… that somehow you were _different_ to me, and that it wasn’t just that your face pissed me off or that I was still mad about the poster thing… And by the time I did, you’d already...” You swallow, only adding to the clumsy turning and sloshing inside your stomach. “I like you,” you say at last, your eyes darting back down to the floor. “Not as a friend, or as a clubmate. I just…” Words have started to escape you at this point, floating just out of your reach, but you manage to grab hold of as many as you can. “I just want you to understand why I did this.”

You can feel Jared’s eyes boring holes into your forehead, and there’s a slow shuffle of fabric as he shifts uncomfortably. “So then… When you told me to spend less time around you…”

You nod, sure he’s already put together the pieces on his own. “I just needed some time to process everything. To get over it. I… I wanted some space, I guess.”

“Well,” says Jared, without a single moment’s pause, “maybe next time you’d do good not to drag all of our friends into your personal issues.” You hear a quiet _slap_ of skin against skin, and when you look up, you see that Jared has clamped his hand down over his mouth. “I mean,” he mumbles, still averting his eyes, “you should be able to have them around to support you, of course, but…,” his face hardens, and he dares to look you in the eyes once more, “you really made every single _one_ of my friends stay away from me just because you had a crush? I… I understand it must have been hard for you, but…,” he exhales sharply before quickly inhaling again, almost an aghast sort of wheeze, “really?”

“I—” _I know,_ you want to say. _I was wrong. I fucked up. I’m sorry._ But before you can choke a single word out, the smattering of footsteps sounds behind you, and when you turn around, Hana Mizuno is barrelling towards the two of you like a hurricane.

“You have no reason to be mean to him!” she hisses, throwing herself in between the two of you like some kind of human shield. Casting a quick glance at Jared, it seems he’s just as surprised by her sudden intrusion as you are, his eyes wide and his mouth hanging slightly agape. “He’s here for the tournament,” Hana continues, her words quickly increasing in tempo as she advances in on you, “he’s one of us, by now you should’ve—” She stops short as Jared places a hand on her shoulder, slowly turning to face him.

“Hana, you don’t need to worry,” he tells her, his lips curling up into a hesitant smile. “Paul was just apologizing.”

You tense completely when Hana’s eyes fall back to you because oh my god, no you weren’t; you completely forgot about actually apologizing. Fuck, you’re such a complete and utter ass. Why is he even bothering to cover for you when he was so mad just a second ago? You force your face into a smile anyways, but the way your cheeks tremble tell you it’s not at all convincing. “You were?” Hana asks, her expression softening into something kinder and much less frightening.

“Um… kind of.” You had been _planning_ to apologize, at least before Hana interrupted. Maybe Jared was just smart enough to pick up on that. A few heavy, silent seconds pass before Jared clears his throat. At first you think he’s just doing it to break the awkward atmosphere you’ve created, but then it hits you. “I mean, yeah!” you exclaim, perhaps a little _too_ enthusiastically. “Definitely. I was definitely apologizing.” You turn slightly to face Jared better, trying your best to hold his gaze as you finally say, “Sorry, man.” Not the way you expected this going, but you’ll take it.

Hana looks between the two of you, her hands moving to play with the hem of her blazer. “Apologies don’t generally take twenty minutes…,” she points out. “Neither of you were there to see my event.” No. There’s no way. Your eyes fly around the room to spot the nearest clock, and you find that Hana is right. Somehow, completely unbeknownst to you, you and Jared have been out here for twenty minutes. Your conversation must have been way more stilted and awkward than you thought, because it only felt like five. Or maybe everyone was right when they said time flies when you’re having fun.

Next to you, Jared smacks himself in the forehead, hard enough to leave a faint red mark. “Oh man! Your event _was_ first, I thought so! I’m sorry, Hana, I should have been there.” And he _would_ have been there, had it not been for you. Just add that to the list of things you’ve managed to royally fuck up in the past month.

“ _We_ should’ve been there,” you mumble, as if to point this out without truly giving yourself away. Jared throws a glare at you, surely acknowledging this, and you stuff your hands into your pockets, holding back a shiver.

“Are either of you going to explain what’s going on here?” Hana asks suddenly, making your heart very nearly leap out of its chest. No. This is _not_ something she needs to know about. At least, not yet. Because as much as you think she deserves to hear the full truth, telling Jared took enough courage. You can’t imagine having to explain all of this to someone you’ve only known for a mere two and a half months. It’s simply not an option.

So instead you shake your head and sigh, spouting out the first answer that comes to mind. “Politics, Hana.” In the background, Hana and Jared carry on, talking about her event and the rest of the tournament, and you listen to the best of your abilities, but your mind carries on the metaphor with no regard for your surroundings. Maybe in a way, this was a sort of battle. Between you and Jared, between you and Hana, between your mind and your heart, between you and your own emotions… You don’t really care. It’s plain to see you lost either way.

You tune back in just in time to see Jared reach down to pat Hana’s head. Instead she reaches up, taking her hand in his, and you can see nothing but love in either of their faces.

You clear your throat and dismiss yourself as quickly as you can, your heartbeat still drumming in your ears.


	11. i'm trying

You push through the crowd with sweaty palms, desperately searching the room for a glimpse of teal fabric or the familiar red of Josh’s hair. Relief floods through you when you spot a bit of brown hair bobbing just above the tops everyone else’s heads—PBG is like a goddamn beacon in any crowded space. You squeeze yourself in between a few rowdy kids who you’re pretty sure you recognize as second years from Asagao, but you have no time to think about it before you run right into—

“Mai?!” you cry, overlapping with her shriek as she stumbles backwards at the impact. PBG fumbles trying to steady her, and the two of them end up awkwardly pressed together in a way that makes PBG flush vivid pink (he doesn’t make any attempt to move, though, which you take careful note of).

“Oh, uh…,” her eyes land on you and she slowly pries herself away from PBG, taking a step to the side and wringing her hands together like a guilty-looking child, “hey.”

You know what today is, you remember her mentioning it at lunch and you remembering reading it on the club schedule. She must  _ know  _ that you know. “You… you have a volleyball game today.”

But clearly not, as Mai’s eyes immediately fall to the floor at the mention of it. “Did they… not give you paperwork or something about it?”

You give her the most exasperated look you think you can manage. You do not have the energy to deal with this today. “Mai, I’m the student council president, not the headmaster.”

“Right,” she mumbles. She looks to PBG for a moment, and after he gives her a quick, reassuring nod, she brings her attention back to you. “I kinda… got kicked out.”

Your stomach drops. Sure, you aren’t particularly close with Mai, but you still know whatever story you hear isn’t going to be pretty. “...How?” You aren’t sure you’re ready for more drama so soon after your talk with Jared, but you’re smart enough to know letting go of it that easily would only make them suspicious.

Mai sucks in a deep breath through her nose, and when she exhales, her words come out in a rush with the air. “PBG and I might have snuck alcohol into the school and let Jared take the blame for it and they let it go with PBG because he’s so popular or whatever but Mimi made up a bunch of rumors that made the story sound way worse than it actually was and…,” at the look of shock on your face she trails off, trying to bring the story to some sort of sufficient close, “and they didn’t want me on the team anymore. That’s basically it.”

“So, wait…,” you can feel your hands begin to shake now, far beyond your control, “Jared… he never… He wasn’t involved with the alcohol at  _ all?  _ Is that what you’re saying?” Mai lowers her gaze back to the ground, and next to her PBG seems to be quite distracted by whatever’s on the ceiling. You can feel the world move around you, still spinning on its axis, but it feels like you’re not in sync with like, like you’re still adjusting, trying to catch up, but you just can’t process the information you’re being given  _ fast enough... _ “Guys,” you choke out, hoping you sound a lot more put-together than you feel.

PBG is the first to give in, looking back down at you and stuffing his hands into the pockets of his jacket. “You can be mad at us instead if you want. I… I can stay away from you as long as you need, it’s fine, really, I…” He averts his gaze suddenly, and you become aware of the tremble of his shoulders and the quiet waver of his normally lilting voice.

“No, no, it’s fine!” you spit out, almost on impulse, desperate to keep him from crying in the middle of a mall arcade. “It… it wasn’t even really about the alcohol, it…,” you make careful eye contact with Mai, and you can tell by just the furrow of her brow that she already knows, that she sees in you the feelings she saw in herself and so much more, “it was really just about Jared. I’m just an asshole, so don’t…,” you tug mindlessly at the sleeve of your Normal Boots jacket, a welcome distraction and a mind-numbing sort of comfort, “don’t worry about me hating you or anything, I guess. We’re good.”

PBG keeps his face turned away from you for just a second more, just long enough to hastily wipe his face against his sleeve, but when he looks back at you, he’s smiling. “Okay. I… Yeah, that’s… that’s good.” He sounds flustered, and you can’t tell if it’s because he’s embarrassed that he started tearing up or if he’s shocked at how easily you forgave him.

Either way, he seems to be doing just fine, and you’re grateful, because it’s now that the quiet beat of dance music reaches your ears. Actually, you’re pretty sure you’ve heard this music somewhere before. It sounds like something you’d save for some kind of big, flashy event, like a rave or a big party or... 

A fashion show. Like Jared’s fashion show. Jared’s event. It started five minutes ago, didn’t it?

“I… I need to go,” you say, more to yourself than to Mai or PBG. Saying it out loud makes it more real, you think. Now you can’t back out.

Mai gives you a tight-lipped smile and nods, and while PBG looks a bit confused, you know Mai will be there to make sure he doesn’t worry himself about it. In fact…

As you turn and start to navigate yourself back through the crowd, you catch one last brief, fleeting glance at them over your shoulder. You look over just in time to see their hands connect, fingers intertwining easily. You almost find yourself able to smile.

Oh, you are going to give Mai  _ so  _ much shit for this.

You move in the direction of ear-splitting cheers, but when you finally reach the general vicinity of the stage you find it’s just about impossible to move past even the outskirts of the massive clump of people surrounding it. Perhaps someone smaller could slip through, sliding between pairs of people and ducking under limbs, but you have to settle for getting up on your tiptoes and squinting. Even then, you’re unable to catch even the faintest glimmer of Jared.

Still, you can see the projected image of the screen behind it (or at least the upper half of it), and that’s enough to know how he’s doing. Jared’s score is ticking upwards at almost a snail’s pace. You can feel your heart jump into your throat. You don’t really know much about Must Dance, but that… surely can’t be good, right? What was Wallid’s score? How far behind is Jared? Will he even be able to beat him? He’s usually so calculated in his movements; that’s why they chose him to do this event in the first place. So why is this  _ happening _ ?

You know why, and yet here you are, desperately trying to convince yourself otherwise.

The song is halfway over. You’re not sure if you’re breathing. The uncertainty isn’t doing good things to you. You’re so focused on the slow and steady rise of Jared’s score that you almost miss the flash of pink as it enters your vision. But there’s Hana, moving towards you with more purpose than she has all day (and that’s saying something, what with the way she rushed at you and Jared after her event). “Hana, what’s wrong?” you spit out, completely instinctual, because you already know exactly what’s wrong.

You messed things up, and now Hana’s handing you the chance to rectify it on a sparkling silver platter. “Come with me, please!” she cries, and she doesn’t give you a second to answer before taking your hand and dragging you into the swarming mass of people with her. You expect to get caught in a tangle of flailing limbs and hip checks, but instead the crowd gently parts as Hana guides you through, almost as if they were anticipating her. They probably were, you realize; she had to get to the  _ back  _ of the crowd to find you, after all.

“You didn’t really make up with Jared, did you?” she asks, breathless from running. Your grip on her hand tightens, but she doesn’t sound angry or hurt… No, she sounds more  _ excited  _ than anything else.

“I…,” you start, completely unsure of what you’re going to tell her, but it seems Hana doesn’t care much about your answer. She knows the truth whether you say it or not.

(That is,  _ her  _ version of the truth, where you spent twenty minutes being passive-aggressive to her boyfriend outside of the local mall arcade and never once wanted to kiss him, not even a little bit.)

“Well, if he’s really your friend,” she continues, raising her voice to be heard over the crowd as the two of you move closer and closer to the edge of the stage, “cheer him on! Please, snap him out of it! You’re the only one who can do it!”

“What are you talking about?” you ask, your mind racing with questions. “Snap him out of what?” More importantly, why  _ you?  _ She’s his girlfriend, what do you have that she suddenly doesn’t? You’ve been asking the reverse for weeks, and now all of a sudden the tables are turned, the scenario flipped, and you’re still desperately trying to adjust to the change. And even though you know he doesn’t feel the same, even though he all but rejected you outright, you can’t quite smother the faint glimmer of hope you have left, and Hana’s words certainly aren’t helping—

“Just do it!” she shrieks, quickly ducking behind you and shoving you from behind. You stumble forward, almost running straight into the stage in the struggle to catch your balance. Your eyes move upward on their own accord, and your heartbeat slows from its running high until it beats almost in sync with the music echoing all around you. And up on stage, illuminated by what feels like hundreds of bright white lights, is Jared, moving in time to the music in a way that makes blood rush to your face. The spotlight really  _ is  _ the perfect place for him, you think, but then you glance back at the score projected on screen and all at once the problem becomes clear.

_ “I get it,” _ he’d told you, the day you’d pushed him away purely for your own good.  _ “Image is everything.”  _ You had never stopped to consider his words, too caught up in your own feelings to ever think about anything other than yourself, but he had  _ meant  _ it. Other people’s opinions meant the world to Jared. And here you’d spent weeks pretending to hate him for… for what? To make sure he never found out how much he meant to you? At this point, what he deserves more than anything is a little reminder.

So you move your hands up to cup your mouth, take a deep breath, and hope that your voice will be loud enough to reach him. “Jared!” you shout, surprising even yourself with your volume. Jared falters in one of his movements, and it’s now that you realize your face is absolutely on  _ fire.  _ But you press on, even as your ears burn and your heart threatens to beat straight out of your chest. “I… I’m here for you no matter what!” No matter if he puts up more posters in the third year hallway, no matter if he sneaks alcohol backstage or not, no matter if he wins or loses this event, no matter if he rejects you, no matter if he doesn’t feel the same, no matter who he wants to be with. You’ll stay by his side no matter what. You should have made that clear from the very beginning. “So… please continue!” You can feel your throat straining, and you know it’ll be dry and scratchy the next morning, but it’s worth it to see Jared turn his head and meet your eyes in the crowd. Flustered beyond belief, you do the only thing left you can think of: you stick your hand up in the air and give him an exaggerated thumbs up.

And to your surprise (and slightly repressed delight) the very edge of Jared’s lips quirk up into a faint smile.

“Jared, the game!” you hear Hana cry, only a few steps behind you, and Jared’s smile leaves as quickly as it appeared, replaced with a look of complete and utter concentration as he turns back to the screen.

If you had any last shred of doubt that you had fixed things, it disappears as Jared begins to dance again. He matches the routine on screen exactly, moving with a sort of precision that makes your heart swell with both affection and nostalgia.  _ This  _ is the Jared you know.

...The Jared you love.

You’re not sure what to look at: Jared or his score. Both seem just as important. His score is still totalling even as he strikes his final pose, and you feel Hana grab your hand again as it slows to a crawl.

You don’t even know how many points he needs to beat Wallid. Probably too late to ask.

But Hana is quick to give you an answer. As soon as his score appears on screen, she shouts, “Jared, you did it!” but her voice is effectively lost in the raucous applause of the rest of the audience. It reaches your ears, though, and that’s plenty enough.

Jared is off the stage in seconds, bolting down the stairs and diving through the front of the crowd to meet the two of you. You hold up your hand for a fist bump as he approaches, and he only reciprocates it for a brief second before pulling you into a tight hug.

You’re stock still for a moment, the smell of Jared’s cologne overwhelming your senses. And then you melt, wrapping your arms around him and hiding your face in his shoulder. “Thank you,” Jared whispers, his voice barely a breath on your ear. And for a single moment, everything is perfect, it’s all you ever wanted, you’re walking on thin air…

And then he pulls away and turns to Hana, hugging her so tightly he almost lifts her off the ground, and you know there was nothing special about it at all.

And maybe that’s okay.

 

You find Nick and Josh huddled around a  _ Road Brawler 2  _ cabinet with Satch. You make a beeline towards them, eager to take your mind off of all the freshly-resolved drama (because even if the wounds have been patched up, they’re still bleeding) and fit in some last minute practice for your event, which is set to start in fifteen minutes. “Hey,” you greet, trying to sound as casual as possible despite the myriad of anxieties still crowding your head. Nick smiles as you reach his side and Josh raises a hand in acknowledgement, too absorbed in his game with Satch to spare you a glance.

Satch, on the other hand, is a bit more friendly. “Nice to see you,” he says, giving you a quick look over his shoulder. “How was Jared’s event? I heard from Mai that you stopped by and watched.” He sounds quite pleased about that, you notice, and why shouldn’t he be? He’s probably relieved to hear the two of you have resolved your differences… Even if that’s not quite what happened at all.

“Well, he won, so that was good,” you reply, earning a chuckle out of Satch.

“Perfect!” He skillfully swipes the joystick to the right, and Josh lets out a displeased grunt. “I’ve been… really worried about him lately, so I’m glad to hear everything turned out alright.” You know he’s not just talking about the tournament event, but you’ve dealt with that issue plenty enough today. It’s time to give yourself a bit of a break.

“What about your event, then? Judging just ended, right?”

Satch nods. “Took first place, just like you said I would.” A short and concise answer, just as you expected. Satch has always been a bit too humble for his own good.

“Just like we  _ all  _ said you would,” Nick points out, and Satch lets out a tiny exhale that you’re sure only serves to hide how flustered he is at all the praise.

“So,” you start, gently elbowing Nick—the only one not playing—in the side, “how’d it go?”

Just as you expect, he flushes bright pink, but he sounds just as cheery as ever. “Pretty well! We haven’t been able to track down  _ everyone  _ yet—”

“We still need to tell Jared, Hana, and Jirard,” Josh pipes up, never once taking his focus away from the screen (even if, from what you can tell, there’s very little chance of him beating Satch at this point). Makes sense. You’ve been keeping Jared busy for a while now, Hana’s new and therefore less of a priority, and Jirard’s event will render him unavailable until the end of the day.

“—but everyone we’ve told has been really great about it!” Nick finishes, his smile stretching from ear-to-ear. You quickly prepare yourself to listen to some rambling, making yourself comfortable against the side of the cabinet. “We waited until after Hana’s event to start telling everyone, because, you know, everyone was kind of all laser-focused in on that to begin with. Jirard ran off to his event before we could talk to him, like Josh said, so we still need to catch up with him. PBG was really happy for us—did you know he and Mai started dating?” You nod, and Nick picks right back up where he left off, eyes bright. “Apparently they’re waiting to surprise Jared and Hana with it, so don’t tell them. Anyways, it just turned into this whole mutual congratulating fest. Mai was like, really excited for us for whatever reason.”

“Really  _ overly  _ excited,” Josh mutters, and you can feel the discomfort radiating off of his skin.

“Yeah. Well, I’m sure we can talk to her about that. Jon said Shane owed him money, but I think he was just trying to act like he’d predicted it so he’d look good or something, because Shane said they never bet on anything. He reacted pretty much just how you’d expect, like,” he doesn’t even bother with the accent, “‘Oh, okay. Congrats,’ and nothing else, you know? But that’s okay, that’s just how he is. And Satch—”

“I said, ‘Welcome to the club,’” Satch finishes, smiling slightly (it’s hard to tell if it’s because of the conversation or because he’s whittled Josh’s HP bar down to a few pixels). “I knew I couldn’t be the only one who liked boys. It seemed statistically improbable.”

“You always had Hidden Block,” you remind him.

Satch nods, just barely missing what surely would have been the finishing blow on Josh’s avatar. “True, but in that sense they were beating us.”

You barely hold in a laugh. “What, is percentage of non-straight members a new tournament event?”

“Definitely,” Satch replies, and you don’t have to look at his face to know that he’s smiling, even though Josh continues to evade his attacks. “We’re tied now—both at one third.”

“Well,” you say, feeling strangely at home, “ _ I _ think we might be in the lead now.”

Josh’s hand slips on the joystick, and Satch is finally able to land a hit on him. The automated announcer spits out some words you don’t quite catch as Josh’s character crumples to the pixelated ground. “Oh my god,” Josh whispers. “Is that  _ seriously  _ how you’re coming out to Satch?”

“It’s definitely the best way I’ve come out so far.” Then again, it’s competing against yelling at your best friends and admitting to your crush why you tormented him. Not exactly a difficult win.

But when Satch turns around to face you, he’s smiling brighter than the sun. “If it means anything, I think so, too.”

 

Your event goes just as smoothly as you had hoped it would, your relief at having made up with Jared washing away all of your nerves. It’s a relatively easy win, and with four out of eight events secured, it’s no big surprise when Normal Boots secures the crown.

You manage to grab hold of the microphone as your clubmates swarm the stage (honestly, being the best public speaker of the group, they probably let you have it). “I would like to take this moment,” you start, far more put-together than the group bouncing and cheering a few feet behind you, “to thank the fans, our families, but most of all…”

You hold the microphone a little closer to your chest, turning to shoot Jared a shy smile. “Our friends.” What he’s always been, and what he will be from now on. A friend. “To thank our friends for sticking with us and seeing the best in us,”  _ even when we abandon them for seeing too much of the best in  _ them, “even when we make terrible asses of ourselves.”

Jared laughs, low and beautiful, and when he pats you on the back butterflies flutter all throughout your chest. But then he turns and points to Hana, and you know that all good things have to somehow come to an end.

But you also know that with every ending, there’s a new beginning. It’s just that this new beginning isn’t your own. “Oh, right!” you mumble, giving Hana a fleeting over-the-shoulder glance. “We also have an announcement to make.” Does she know what’s coming? Has all the excitement made her momentarily forget the little promise you’d all made to her? Either way, you make sure to deliver your next line with as much enthusiasm as possible. “As of today, we officially have a new addition to the Normal Boots Club! Please welcome Hana Mizuno!”

Hana’s face lights up like a million fairy lights, and as Jared drapes a club jacket over her shoulders and quietly congratulates her, you can’t help but think she deserves all this and more.

 

It’s even more of a relief when you win the election. With all your focus placed on Jared and the tournament, you’d nearly let it fall to the wayside. It’s almost ironic: for all the time you spent insisting you were pushing Jared away  _ because  _ of the election, you hardly put aside any time to actually  _ plan  _ for the election itself.

In the end, you have Nick and Josh to thank, seeing as they stayed up with you for hours revising and finalizing your campaign speech. You can hardly believe you ever even  _ considering  _ kicking them off your campaign team.  _ Both  _ of them are totally vital to you, and to each other, too—something that you know because Josh has slowly been calming Nick down for the past eight minutes.

“Just a few more deep breaths, babe… Look, it’s fine, he won! You had nothing to be worried about.”

“But if…,” Nick sucks a shaky breath inwards—apparently he’d been hyperventilating before the results were announced. “But if he’d lost it would have been  _ our  _ fault.”

“It would have been  _ Jared’s  _ fault,” you joke, just as Josh leans in and pecks Nick on the forehead. Nick laughs, and you’re not sure if it’s because of your comment or Josh’s affection. It’s weird. You never took him for the PDA type, but he’s slowly and steadily been proving you wrong.

The room is clearing out, only a few stragglers remaining at this point, but the three of you still stand on the stage like you belong there. There’s confetti in your hair and your smile won’t leave your face and for the first time in weeks you feel like you have something to be proud of.

“Um…?” You turn at the sound of a familiar voice, and find Jeff hovering around the edge of the stage. Your eyes quickly scan the room for Ian—weren’t they here together?—and find him waiting at the doorway. So clearly Jeff’s hoping to speak to you on his own. “So, uh, hey. Congratulations.” He holds his hand out (at an usually high angle, because of the platform you’re standing on) for a handshake. “I guess the better man won.”

If it had been anyone else, any random stranger, you would dismiss his words as meaningless platitudes. But this is Jeff, and something about his awkwardness feels awfully genuine. “Thanks, man,” you reply, bending down a bit so you can properly shake his hand. “It was fun.” That’s true; through all the stress and drama, there was something almost  _ relaxing  _ about the election in comparison.

You pull away from the handshake, expecting that to be all, but Jeff still lingers. “Uh, actually,” he stares resolutely at his feet, “I was wondering…” There’s a long pause before he manages to find the right words to say. “Do you maybe wanna go out for ice cream or something? Sometime? D-doesn’t have to be today, obviously, I just…” He swallows, effectively cutting himself off. “Yeah.”

You blink. Once. Twice. “You… you just lost to me in the election and now you wanna do friend stuff?”

Something in Jeff’s expression changes, but you can’t quite put your finger on what. “Um, yeah. I guess so.”

“Well, I mean, I’m fine with that, I guess I just didn’t really expect—”

“Oh my  _ god _ ,” Josh groans, much too loud and frustrated for how empty the room is, “he’s trying to ask you out on a date, Paul!”

“W-what?!” you hear yourself cry out, but when you turn to look at Josh, Nick is gently guiding him off of the stage.

“We’ll just… give you two some space,” he says, smiling sheepishly. You watch the two of them make their way off of the stage and towards the door, but it’s not enough to distract you from the sudden pounding of your heart. Surely Josh was just joking…?

But when you look back to Jeff, his face is stained a brilliant shade of red. “So, uh… Sorry you had to find out like that. I guess I should have been more direct…”

“Uh, no!” you cry out, the words spilling out of your mouth without control. “No, no, it’s fine! I’m… I’m known for being kind of dense with this stuff.” That might be a bit of an understatement, but he doesn’t need to know that. Not yet, anyways. In fact, he might just have enough time to figure it out on his own.

“You don’t have to say yes,” Jeff tells you, even though he won’t quite meet your eyes. He waves a hand in front of his chest, as if to brush it off. “I just wanted to get it off my chest, I guess.”

Something about his words makes you settle, a single, pervasive question overwhelming your nerves. “Wait, that’s… that’s not  _ why  _ you ran against me, is it?”

Somehow, Jeff turns even  _ redder.  _ “W-well, it’s not… it’s definitely not the  _ only  _ reason.” You wait for him to continue, and after a deep breath, he does. “I thought it would be a good extracurricular for college applications. That was the original reason. Plus, I just thought…” He gives you a hard look. “Even if I  _ do  _ like you, I still think you could be doing your job better.” That earns an eyeroll from you, but you can’t wipe the smile off of your face. Jeff chuckles lightly, and you can feel the tension between the two of you dissipate. “ _ But…  _ I did also think it would be a good way to catch your attention. I think that was the deciding factor, in the end.”

It’s clear in an instant that he means it, with the way he only holds eye contact for a few moments at a time, the dusting of color on his cheeks, and the determination with which he speaks. This is a Jeff you’ve never seen before, and yet he still feels so familiar; you know without a doubt that this is the very same Jeff who delivered a rousing speech in front of you and your classmates yesterday. The very same Jeff that tried to throw you off of your throne.

“Okay,” you say, and Jeff snaps up to attention.

“W-what?”

“I’ll go out with you. I…,” you try to fight the blood rushing to your cheeks, but it’s no use, “I have some free time right now, actually.”

Jeff’s face splits into an ear-to-ear grin, and he holds his hand up high for you to take. “Ice cream, then?”

You smile right back. “Ice cream it is.” And if you think of Jared as you take his hand and let him help you off the stage, then you’re sure it’s only temporary.

You’ll try again.


End file.
